


Victory of the Viper

by riana_vale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bullying, Consensual Underage Sex, Dark, Dark Magic, Death, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gore, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, Mental Health Issues, Moral Ambiguity, Mystery, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Therapy, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Villains, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 115,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riana_vale/pseuds/riana_vale
Summary: Ava Adara falls from the sky. Draco Malfoy discovers her secret. What lengths would she go to make sure her secret is kept safe?Based on The Order of the Phoenix, The Half-Blood Prince, and The Deathly Hallows.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	1. Book One – Victory Of The Viper

**Author's Note:**

> The story 'Victory of the Viper' is set during the events of The Order of the Phoenix, The Half-Blood Prince, and The Deathly Hallows. For the most part, it's canon-compliant apart from a few alterations that do not affect the original plot. It closely follows the books, with numerous scenes and dialogue taken word-for-word.
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, all characters, settings, and references belong to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> #TRANSRIGHTSAREHUMANRIGHTS
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> This story will contain mature and dark themes such as: sexual content, violence (sexual, blood, gore, etc.), psychological trauma, mental illness, toxic relationships, bullying, death
> 
> This work of fiction will get significantly darker and more mature as the story progresses.
> 
> Book One: Victory of the Viper — 13+  
> Book Two: Fall of the Angel — 18+  
> Book Three: TBD — 18+

**_BOOK ONE_ **

I was born three times.

Once, as an infant to parents I no longer remember.

Next, as a daughter to a graying witch or wizard.

The last, as a white dove flying across an electric sky.

**SOUNDTRACK |** **_i._ ** _bird – billie marten_ **_ii._ ** _strange birds – birdy_ **_iii._ ** _only – ry x_ **_iv._ ** _pov – ariana grande_ **_v._ ** _like everybody else (acoustic) – lennon stella_ **_vi._ ** _armenia – joan thiele_ **_vii._ ** _hostage – billie eilish_ **_viii._ ** _sit down beside me – patrick watson_ **_ix._ ** _friends don't – maddie & tae _ **_x._ ** _fuck up the friendship – leah kate_ **_xi._ ** _let me love the lonely – james arthur_ **_x_ ** **_i_ ** **_i._ ** _that way – tate mcrae_ **_xii_ ** **_i_ ** **_._ ** _not in that way – sam smith_ **_x_ ** **_iv_ ** **_._ ** _boys ain't shit – saygrace feat. tate mcrae and audrey mika_ **_xv._ ** _love the way you lie – eminem feat. rihanna_ **_xv_ ** **_i_ ** **_._ ** _fire on fire – sam smith_ **_xv_ ** **_i_ ** **_i._ ** _goodbye – apparat_ **_xvii_ ** **_i_ ** **_._ ** _trauma – nf_ **_x_ ** **_ix._ ** _one day – tate mcrae_ **_xx._ ** _deep end – birdy_ **_xx_ ** **_i_ ** **_._ ** _messages from her – sabrina claudio_


	2. Aster's Letters

**_LISTEN_ ** _: Bird – Billie Marten_

My toes curled around the sand as I watched the waves crashing onto the shore, the sun rising just beyond the horizon. I woke up before dawn so I could sit on the sand for a few moments before I left for King's Cross. The smell of the water and the birds dancing in the sky lifted my spirit, easing the anxiety coiling in the depths of my stomach. Each year still felt like the first, and no matter how many times I passed through Platform 9¾, there was always still the fear that I wouldn't get through.

By the edge of the beach was a modest cottage where an aunt of the Weasleys used to live. Memories of their visits when we were children played through my mind like film from an 8mm camera. My pre-pubescent crush on Charlie, Bill diving into the salty water, Percy silently collecting shells, Fred and George each grabbing either my hands and feet to throw me into the ocean, Ron munching by the beach, and Ginny clinging to my arm like moth to flame. Growing up alone, there was a loneliness I could only placate whenever the seven red-heads were around.

Our friendship came to a halt when, four years ago, I got sorted into Slytherin, and as usual, their youngest son to Gryffindor. I remember going home for the Christmas holidays during my first year and crying to my uncle, Aster. With quivering lips, I told him about how Fred and George were among those who booed whenever someone got sorted into Slytherin.

That was the only time I ever felt bad about my House. Growing up, Aster never really instilled any sort of preference in Houses. He's always made me feel like all Houses were equally great and that it didn't matter where I was sorted into, as long as I'll be the "best" me that I can be, whatever that may mean. Aster, though decades older than Arthur and Molly, got along well with the Weasley parents since they were all Gryffindor alumni and both men worked together in the Ministry. After hearing my story, Aster simply stopped replying to their letters. In the same year, their Aunt Tessie passed away giving them no more reason to visit Cornwall. I never really talked to any of them since.

"Ava!" I heard someone yell from above, snapping me out of my reverie. I turned my head, squinting from the glare of the sun, and saw my aunt, Eleanor, on top of the cliff waving her hands frantically. "Come on now! You're going to be late!"

I stood up, brushing the sand off my legs. With my wand in my hand, I closed my eyes and in a flash, my limbs turned into wings and my skin into a plethora of white feathers. I flew home.

Becoming an Animagus was a long and arduous journey. If it weren't for Aster, I would have probably never accomplished it. I grew up watching him fly, pecking his beak at the salty water next to me as I swam just to make 8-year-old Ava laugh. In my third year in Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall started teaching the ins and outs of Animagi and I decided then that I wanted to learn how. The summer after, Aster started assisting me. It took me less than two years to complete, a feat I would never have accomplished if it weren't for his guidance. Just as I was about to finish, there was an unexpected... _incident_. He died in December of last year.

Despite Eleanor's protests, I finished it by myself, desperate to keep a part of Aster with me. Every morning and every night, I uttered, _"amato animo animato animagus"_ until, thankfully in the same month, an electrical storm came. I ran to a secluded area of the beach where I kept the crystal phial, and with my wand pointed at my heart, I muttered the incantation one more time. With trembling hands, I drank the potion. My pulse started beating rapidly, almost as if I grew another heart.

And then it came: the most gut-wrenching pain I've felt in my entire life.

I don't know how long it lasted nor how long I was alone by the ocean with only the lightning, the moon, and the rain accompanying me, but by some miracle, I was fed the vision of a white dove, a replica of my uncle when he was still alive.

My first night as an Animagus was a blur. I'm not entirely sure what happened or what I did. All I remember was the cold wave of fear that crashed through my spine, followed by an unexpected relief. The grief that I felt after my uncle's passing was halted by the consolation that through magic, a part of him will always be with me.

The pricking in my eyes brought me back as I flew past our garden. The loss of focus caused the loss of my wings and before I could retrieve my bearings, I fell knees-first onto a bush, sending a jolt of pain up my thighs. It's stems pricked my skin, and I let out a groan as I brought myself up, brushing off the leaves stuck on my dress.

A few meters away, I see Eleanor gasping for breath, the glow of the sun casting soft light against her silhouette. With a sharp inhale, I swallowed the lump in my throat and plastered on a smile.

"Are you okay?" I teased, jogging towards her. Taking her wrinkly hand in mine, I said, "You shouldn't be walking this far by yourself, you know."

With a curled lip, she huffed, "Then maybe you shouldn't make me."

I laughed.

She flailed her free arm in front of her. "It's almost 7 and you haven't even eaten breakfast nor have you taken a bath. We need to leave by 7:30 or else you're going to miss the train."

I flashed her a sheepish smile. "I'll be quick, I promise."

"You go on ahead and prepare, just eat breakfast in the car," she ordered, waving me away.

I entered the house and I ran up past the carpeted foyer and up the white oak stairs to my room, almost tripping on Sofia's cage. I hurriedly showered, illegally using my wand to hasten the process, and by 7:25, I was downstairs with my trunk, my bag, and my cat.

Eleanor walked towards me and with her perfectly manicured hands, sprayed her favorite perfume on both sides of my neck.

"You have everything?" She patted down my hair, brushing wisps of it behind my ear.

"Mhm," I chimed.

She brought her right hand on my cheek and gave me a reassuring smile, making the wrinkles on her eyelids scrunch together.

"I love youuuu," I sang, making her smile brighter.

"Love you too," she replied. "Go and load up the trunk."

Veeny, our house-elf, grabbed most of the items before I could pick them up, running past Eleanor towards the entrance and out onto the driveway where the car was. I strode down the steps and onto the gray cobblestones, taking a last look at the white mansion and the vines trailing up its walls before walking down.

"Thank you, Veeny," I said, placing the rest of my things into the trunk.

"Veeny is most happy to help Miss Ava," she chimed.

I bent down to her level to give her a hug.

"I'll miss you," I said onto her shoulders as her tiny hands patted my back.

"Veeny will miss Miss Ava as well!"

"Make sure you take good care of Eleanor, alright?" I said as I stood back up.

"Veeny promise!"

♰

It took us about three hours to get from Cornwall to King's Cross, thanks to the enchanted _Benz 600SEC_ Aster left us, an idea he got from the infamous Arthur Weasley. During the drive, Eleanor talked about how excited she was for her plans with Aunt Lara and how they intend to visit the Muggle markets and shops for fun and all the food they're going to make and all the projects they're going to work on.

Aunt Lara has been a constant presence in my life since I could remember. Her and Eleanor had been best friends since they were toddlers, and even when they were sorted into different Houses. Both recently widowed, they decided to live together in Cornwall, much to my relief.

My incessant worrying for Eleanor was something of a bother to her. Says _I'm_ the child and I'm not supposed to be the one worrying. But how could I not when I knew the heartbreak she had to endure when we lost Aster? Eleanor had been his other half for more than five decades. They got married when she was only 21 and has not known life without him since. I've known him for only fourteen years when they took in a one-year-old in their 60s. I imagine the hurt that I felt but tenfold. That was what she must've felt.

"We're finally here," she said as she pulled on the breaks, wincing as she massaged the back of her neck.

"You should've just let me drive," I joked.

She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "In your dreams."

"What time's Aunt Lara going to be here?"

"She said she's on her way now... meaning she's just about to leave her house."

I looked at the time on the dashboard. _10:45 AM._

"I'll go on ahead. Just stay here in the car, okay? You're already tired."

"No, I'll send you off," she insisted, rushing to unbuckle her seatbelt. I placed a hand on hers to stop her.

"I've done this four times already. I've got it." I gave her a reassuring smile and a kiss on the cheek. "I'll miss you," I said with a small pout.

"I'll miss you too. Write to me, okay?"

"I will, I promise," I said just as I was getting out of the car. I ran to the back. "Tell Aunt Lara I said hi! Oh and, ask her to drive you guys back," I yelled as I grabbed my things from the trunk.

"I will... Bye, Ava!"

"Bye! Love you," I shouted as I loaded my belongings onto a cart.

"Love you too! Stay safe!"

With that, I entered King's Cross.

As I walked through the lengths of the train station, the smell of petroleum flooding my senses, I was reminded once more of Aster. It was the first time I boarded Hogwarts Express alone. If he were there, he would have been walking next to me, talking animatedly about his time in school. He would have told me stories about Gryffindor, bragged about being the captain of the Quidditch team, all the girls he dated, and all his friends.

In spite of being raised by a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, I never really had much of a preference. If we're being honest, I never really understood all the fuss about the Houses. It just didn't make sense to me. Being in my fifth year, it still hasn't made sense to me. Are Gryffindors never allowed to cower in fear? Must Hufflepuffs exhibit kindness at all times? Are Ravenclaws always logical and open-minded? Don't even get me started on Slytherin. Frankly, I think it's ridiculous how we're labeled and boxed according to the values we had when we were eleven.

The whistle of the train brought me out of my trance. Without realizing it, I've reached the outside of Platform 9¾. I inhaled sharply as I ran through, only exhaling a sigh of relief once I was inside. After leaving the bulk of my belongings on it's designated area, I rushed to the front of the train, running past the parents waving their children goodbye.

Just as I stepped on the ledge, I heard Aster's voice saying, "Keep out of trouble," just as he usually did when he was still alive. Unlike the other times, the voice left just as quickly as it came.

With a sigh, I boarded Hogwarts Express.

Despite being an orphan, I had three levels of protection. Number one: I was a Slytherin. Since most of the school hated us, we compensated by protecting each other. At first glance, that might seem like such a _selfless_ and _caring_ thing to do. It's not. It's an unwritten contract. _I protect you, you protect me. You break the contract, you lose protection._

Number two: Aster was a well-respected Ministry member during his time. He was Head Auror in his youth, and then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before Barty Crouch Sr. He had his claws deep within the Ministry, and despite the Adaras not being a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he was the person to go to when someone needed a favor. Whether you were a pureblood, half-blood, or Muggle-born, you had to respect him, and as an extension, you had to respect me.

Number three: _Daphne Greengrass._ The Greengrass family was one of the oldest and purest in Britain. She grew up with the Bulstrodes, the Parkinsons, the Notts and the Malfoys, but unlike her childhood friends, she wasn't raised to believe in blood purity. We met five years ago in front of Platform 9¾, and have been inseparable since.

As I entered our compartment, Daphne's bright smile greeted me, her honey blonde hair shining against the sunlight peeking through the train window. She sat tall, back straight and hands carefully placed on her crossed legs.

"Merlin, I thought you weren't going to make it," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide.

In front of her sat Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis, our roommates (and _friends_ for all intents and purposes). I sat opposite them, giving Daphne a tight hug. Millie towered over us, even sitting down, the new shallow dips under her cheekbones piquing my interest.

I said nothing about it.

"Millie! Tracey! Where's Pansy?" I asked.

Both girls smiled at me brightly while Millie pointed to the compartment right next to us. There sat Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson standing by the door, giggling at whatever the boys said.

"As usual, doting over Malfoy," Daphne commented with a roll of her eyes, earning a giggle from Tracey. I chuckled.

"So, what did you girls do for the summer?" I asked just as the train started moving, causing all of us to jolt forward. Millie was about to answer when the door of our compartment swung open.

"Oh, Adara. You're here," I heard a voice say. Pansy had just entered, her jade green eyes looking me up and down. She sat next to Tracey, a smug smile on her face. "I like your outfit," she added, eyeing my white shirt, black dress ensemble.

"Hi, Pansy," I said, smiling politely.

"Have you heard? Malfoy and I are prefects," Pansy bragged.

"Oh wow, congratulations."

Pansy's lip twitched into a curl for a second before she tossed her hair back and rolled her eyes.

Ill at ease, I took Sofia out of her cage and Daphne immediately stole her from my arms, coddling the white fluff ball.

"You know... I always thought Ava was going to get picked," Daphne said offhandedly as she stroked the back of Sofia's tufted ears. "I mean... among us girls, she has the best record."

Pansy jutted her chin and crossed her arms.

 _The perks of being a Greengrass._ No matter what you say, they can't touch you.

"It's fine, I didn't want the position anyway," I lied, trying to deflate the tension. I _did_ want the position, and I was almost certain it would go to me. For days, Eleanor had to suffer through dinners with me just complaining about how I worked so hard and how I didn't understand what I did wrong and how my record was clean yet people like Malfoy who has gotten into multiple detentions still got to be prefect and how–

Pansy gave me a sarcastic smile before announcing her departure, making sure she enunciated the words _'prefect's compartment'_ when Tracey asked where she was going. She excitedly chased after Draco who was already walking towards the front of the train.

"So... Millie, Tracey. How was summer?" I repeated my unanswered question.

"Same old, same old. We stayed in France the whole time," Millie grouched, rolling her eyes.

"At least you got to leave Britain! I had to stay home because of Potter," Tracey said, crossing her arms and pouting her lips. "My father had to work overtime in the Ministry because of him and Dumbledore."

I tilted my head to the side, feigning sympathy for the two girls. "That must've been so... difficult," I offered, making sure my eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

Beside me, Daphne was struggling to keep a straight face, burrowing her face onto Sofia's head to cover her amused grin.

"It really was!" Millie exclaimed. "I really wanted to visit you in Cornwall."

Each year since I've known them, I invited the four girls to visit me during the summer. They enjoyed being by the beach, and Eleanor being one of the most coveted designers in the wizarding world probably played a huge part. They would stay over for a few days and Eleanor would make sure they went home with a bag full of new clothes, despite her _dislike_ for a few of them. It was her way of protecting me. She knew just how foul Slytherin purebloods can be, especially to someone like me.

"I didn't get to visit either," Daphne grunted. "This whole _You-Know-Who_ thing really got our parents' knickers in a twist, huh?"

"Tell me about it," Tracey said.

For the first hour of the train ride, Millie and Tracey gossiped about almost every single person in school, taking their time with _Cedric Diggory_ , _Harry Potter,_ and _He Who Must Not Be Named_. Daphne and I spent our time on the train skimming through the new books we bought for the year (me with textbooks and her with fiction books), joining in their conversation only when asked.

Sofia and Midnight, Millie's cat, have settled themselves in the middle of the compartment, cuddling up to each other.

When the food cart passed, Tracey and Millie excitedly went through the collection of snacks.

Smiling at the Trolley witch, I said, "One chocolate bar, please."

I handed her one sickle in return.

Just in time, Pansy came back from her "meeting."

"Oh, thank Merlin, I thought I was going to miss the food cart," she said. She grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet, absentmindedly handing the lady a sickle.

Soon enough, the newspaper fueled another session of gossip between the three girls.

Midway through the trip, we all brought out the lunch boxes that our parents – or in my case, aunt – prepared for us. It's become a tradition for the five of us to share food on our trip to Hogwarts, and not before long, it became an unspoken competition as to who brings the best one. I never really cared much about it. But then Eleanor and Aster found out back in second year and their competitive natures came barrelling down.

Unbeknownst to me, my aunt had put together a charcuterie board filled with different cheeses, meats, spreads, crackers, and fruits. Daphne opened hers and the smell of shepherd's pie immediately wafted around the compartment. Millie brought out a wooden bowl filled to the brim with berry trifle, Pansy shared a box full of a variety of pastries like crumpets and scones, and Tracey handed each of us a gourmet chocolate bar and a Scotch egg.

Our compartment filled with laughter as we devoured each other's lunches, and in those moments, any tension or fear disappeared. We were all just teenage girls on a train ride to school.

Not before long, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco walked out of their compartment and peeked through ours.

"Girls," Draco started. "How was summer?"

He and his gang were dressed in all black, but unlike the rest, he wore his signature black suit over a black turtleneck.

Tracey had just opened her mouth when he turned to Crabbe to snicker at some unrevealed inside joke, prompting her to frown.

He turned back to us and nodded as if he'd gotten the answer he was looking for. "Anyway, just wanted to say hello."

"Where are you going?" Pansy asked as they walked away, leaving _her_ question unanswered.

Pansy frowned.

That seemed to be the effect Draco Malfoy had on people.

The three boys snickered as they left the compartment, and I vaguely heard the words ' _Potter',_ ' _mudblood', 'blood traitor',_ and ' _prefect.'_

Daphne and I caught each other's gaze and rolled our eyes at the same time, sharing a look of incredulous amusement.

After a beat, Pansy said, "I'll go walk around too. Prefect duties."

Daphne let out a faint scoff as soon as she left, making me huff a smile. We all knew she wasn't leaving for _prefect duties._

For the next few hours, the four of us talked and talked. Stories about our summers, Tracey's new crush (which was Graham Montague), Millie's family drama, Daphne's summer writer's camp... an endless stream of anecdotes from the two months we've been apart.

When Pansy came back, I decided I wanted to take a nap. I rested my head on Daphne's lap and I spent the rest of the trip in slumber.

♰

I felt the train come to a halt, prompting me to stir. Daphne tapped me on the shoulder, and when my eyes fluttered open, I was met with the interior of Hogsmeade station outside the train window. We quickly put on our robes.

As soon as we exited the train, a cold gust of wind blew past us and I sent a silent thank you to my aunt for making sure I packed enough cashmere jumpers and scarves. I relished the smell of the pine trees and the feel of the night air as we walked through the station, stopping near the edge of the line of horseless stage-coaches. In front of us, Crabbe and Goyle were pushing past a group of second years so that _his highness_ , Draco Malfoy, could pick which carriage he wanted us to use. I gave the younger ones an apologetic smile as they watched us walk past them.

Daphne and I climbed up the carriage with Pansy, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle while Millie, Tracey, Blaise, and Theodore rode the one just after us. I held on to the ledge as the carriage drove itself towards the castle.

The carriages pulled up near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors. Daphne and I jumped out of the carriage and almost bounced up the stairs and into the castle.

In the Great Hall, candles floated midair all along the tables. The ghosts were eagerly conversing with students who were a tad bit busy greeting friends they've missed all summer. We stopped near the middle of the Slytherin table to take our seats while Draco and Blaise were hailed by their Slytherin Quidditch teammates.

"Who is that?" Daphne whispered to me. I followed her gaze to the staff table where Professor Dumbledore sat in his high-backed golden chair. Next to him crouched a curly, mousy-brown haired woman wearing an offensive shade of pink headband and a matching fluffy cardigan.

"New professor?"

"Eleanor would whack herself in the head if she saw her outfit," Daphne joked, making me chuckle.

"Thank Merlin! Hagrid isn't here," I heard Pansy say from behind me. I turned my body to face the table as she sat next to me, followed closely by Millie and Tracey.

A few seconds later, the doors opened and a long line of timid first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was holding a stool in one hand and the Sorting Hat in the other. She placed the items in front of the staff table, and the whispers and chatters inside the Great Hall came to a halt.

The hat burst into a song about the history of Hogwarts and its founders, and I tuned out the lyrics as I played with the loose thread on the hem of my robe, but near the end, its words snapped me back into reality.

_"Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_  
_The warning history shows,_  
_For our Hogwarts is in danger_  
_From external, deadly foes_  
_And we must unite inside her_  
_Or we'll crumble from within_  
_I have told you, I have warned you..._  
_Let the Sorting now begin."_

The room erupted into wary applause, most everyone perplexed by the Sorting Hat's new song.

"What a way to welcome us back," Pansy said sarcastically.

Later that night at the dormitory, the girls couldn't stop talking about the Sorting Hat's new song, Harry Potter, and the new Defense of the Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge. Admittedly, even Daphne and I were fuming. Despite Draco's reassurance that the old hag would treat us kindly, hinting he knew something we didn't, she still left quite the bitter taste in all our mouths.

 _"Hem, hem,"_ Pansy mocked the new professor as she unpacked her clothes into her trunk. "Who _talks_ like that?"

 _"It is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!"_ Tracey imitated Umbridge's high-pitched voice, making all of us laugh.

"Merlin, I can't believe we have to suffer a year of Defense with her," Daphne complained.

"Do you think what Malfoy said is true?" Millie asked. "About Umbridge."

"Probably," I replied. "His father must have told him about it."

"And the song? Honestly, Mother was right. Dumbledore really has made a mess of Hogwarts." Pansy scrunched up her nose in disdain. "If that hat thinks for one second I would ever befriend a Gryffindor just because of a serenade..."

"I wouldn't be caught dead with those Gryffindors," Tracey said whilst puffing up her pillow, earning herself a smile of approval from Pansy.

I took five pairs of white silk pillowcases from my trunk before closing it shut, throwing one on each of the girls' beds.

"Is it–?" Tracey asked.

"Mhm." I grinned.

"Thank Merlin! The ones they have here make my hair frizzy," Millie said.

They all said their thank-yous as I set Sofia's cage on top of my trunk, letting the white Siberian cat out.

Soon after we've all unpacked and decorated, we all got into bed and one by one, the girls started falling asleep. By 11 PM, an ominous silence filled the room with only the sound of the lake accompanying us in the dark. I shut the book I was reading, placed it on top of my nightstand, then extinguished the last candle. I fell asleep wondering how I'll survive this year without Aster's letters.

**–**

**_A/N:_ ** _The characters Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey have been merged. All references and roles Pucey had in the original books will go to Zabini instead._


	3. Descendo

On the first Monday of the year, we received our schedules in the Great Hall. Draco, as usual, received a package of sweets and cakes from his mother. You would think receiving those every week, he'd get tired of them and eventually share, but he didn't. Even in our first three years when his mother sent him a package _every single day,_ he still never bothered offering any of us a piece, except for maybe Crabbe and Goyle but that was on _very_ rare occasions.

On the first day, we had Potions as our first period where we were taught to mix the Draught of Peace. It was said to be a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation, but if brewed wrong, can put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep. The ingredients and the instructions were incredibly specific and as always, our entire table benefited from Draco's proficiency on the subject. He believed it to be imperative that we _all_ receivedgood marks in Potions, and I suspected it was driven by the need to one-up Potter and his minions. Despite all that, Goyle still managed to set his robes on fire by the end of the class, much to Draco's dismay.

Then we had Divination where Professor Trelawney mistily lectured us on Dream Interpretations and its supposed importance _._

 _Importance,_ I scoffed inwardly.

We then wasted an entire hour as she shooed us off into pairs so that we could interpret each other's dreams. Daphne and I, _obviously,_ did not. Instead, I listened to her talk all about this new story she'd been working on. _A short romance novel_ , she said.

Next was Defense Against the Dark Arts where Potter, Granger, and a couple of other Gryffindors got into a screaming match with Professor Umbridge about _You-Know-Who_ and whether or not it was necessary for students to be able to practice defensive spells.

Now–

Loathe as I am to admit – loathe as anyone in Slytherin to admit – the Gryffindors had a point. Whether or not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ was back, what use would it be to _read_ about spells? _Read._ I almost laughed. Were we supposed to bust out our books and recite spells if ever we were faced with a wizard in want of our deaths?

But unlike the other Houses, we stifled our frustrations behind false smiles and "polite" glances, much to the delight of the new professor.

However–

" _Merlin,_ I can't believe the bitch," Pansy fumed as she walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. Daphne and I sat on the floor in front of the table, writing our essay about moonstone properties for Potions. Tracey, Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle sat on the two black leather sofas.

"Reckon I should just slap that bloody stupid pink bow off her head," Crabbe said, his hands in fists.

Daphne laughed, her eyes never leaving her parchment, and said, "You should," knowing full well that Crabbe was all talk when it comes to things like this.

Crabbe ogled Daphne, completely oblivious that the girl was laughing at him, not with him.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, but only on theory? Is she mad?" Pansy's eyes were wide in exasperation.

The hiss of the stone door shifting snapped our attention to the entrance of the common room. Blaise and Draco walked in completely drenched in sweat, their Quidditch robes in their hands, and their white undershirts almost translucent against their bodies. Blaise walked towards us while Draco headed straight to the boy's dormitory with a scowl on his face.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"Quidditch?" Blaise offered, plopping down on the seat closest to Pansy.

Goyle groaned.

Everyone knew just how seriously Draco took Quidditch, and more often than not, Crabbe and Goyle became his punching bag.

"What happened?" Crabbe asked, his eyes wide and his mouth frozen mid-chew. He held a cookie in his hand, its crumbs slowly raining down his lap.

All of the girls dropped whatever it is they were doing to listen.

Blaise shrugged.

"Reckon it's because of his father?" Millie whispered, leaning in as if to tell a secret.

Ever since Potter went running around telling everybody that _You-Know-Who_ was back, the Slytherins were under even more scrutiny. Most of their fathers were Death Eaters back in the day, all claiming that they were under the Imperius Curse, namely Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. Potter's story implicated their families, and the Malfoys were hit quite hard.

Blaise simply gave another shrug. Millie sat back, disappointed to have received no fuel for their gossip.

"Ew," Pansy suddenly exclaimed. "You're getting sweat all over that chair. Go take a bath!"

Blaise sent her an annoyed glare, which quickly turned into a mischievous smirk. As soon as Pansy looked away from him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap, enveloping her in his arms.

"Argh, Zabini!" Pansy shrieked, thrashing on his lap. "You're disgusting! Let me go!"

Blaise responded by hugging her even harder, rubbing his glinting forehead onto her face.

The room erupted with laughter. Pansy struggled to escape his grip, but when she did, she wore a terrifying glare.

Pansy huffed, straightening her clothes with her hands. "I'm going – to take – a bath."

"Can I come with you?" Blaise teased, making Pansy glower at him with such intensity, even I felt uncomfortable.

Pansy stomped towards the girl's dormitory with Tracey and Millie tailing her. Still with a grin on his face, Blaise turned towards the stairs of the boy's dormitory, and Crabbe and Goyle followed suit.

Daphne and I were left to write our essay and by the time we finished, the common room was empty. I had just put away my quill when I thought about sending a letter to Eleanor.

Standing by the foot of the stairs, Daphne was looking at me expectantly, her arms wrapped around her books.

"You go ahead. I'll just write to my aunt."

She yawned. "Okay, don't stay up too late."

I plopped back down the floor, straightening a ripped piece of parchment on the table in front of me. I dipped my quill in ink.

Then came the loud thumps of footsteps. I turned my head towards the sound and emerging from the boy's dormitory was Draco Malfoy.

On instinct, my posture straightened itself as I offered him a small smile which, _of course_ , he ignored.

He trudged towards the exit of the common room and as soon as he shut the door behind him, I released a breath and my body relaxed.

"Okay then," I whispered to myself.

With a shake of my head, I took the quill in my hand and I wrote.

_ Dear Eleanor, _

_ I miss you already. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay and I'm safe. How are you and Aunt Lara? I hope the two of you are having fun! Make sure you don't tire yourself too much, okay? The girls loved the silk pillowcases you made, by the way. They send their regards. _

_ Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you. Sending you all my love. _

_ Ava _

I made a mental note to head over to the Owlery tomorrow morning.

The rest of the week went by without much of a hitch. The next day, Draco was back to his usual self, tormenting the Gryffindors and making fun of Potter and his friends. Pansy, as usual, was right behind him, offering shrieks of laughter whenever necessary. _Even_ when it was unnecessary.

The rest of the professors gave us disgusting amounts of homework. In spite of the mountains of essays and drawings, by Friday night, I had already finished the essay for Potions, four entries in my dream journal for Divination, an essay on Giant Wars for History of Magic, a drawing of a Bowtruckle, and another essay for Herbology. All I had left to do was to work on counter-charms, write an essay for Astronomy, and to practice vanishing spells for Transfiguration, which I figured I could do on the weekends.

"Argh," Millie groaned, rocking back and forth on the floor as she sat crossed-leg. "18 inches of parchment on Giant Wars... 18 inches!"

"I _loathe_ ProfessorBinns," Pansy said with a roll of her eyes.

"I cannot believe someone could be... that boring _._ I mean – _alright_ – we get it, you've been dead for years and you're still teaching. But–," Tracey jutted her chin forward, scrunching her nose in contempt.

The three girls were sprawled on the carpet in the center of our room with quills in hand while I sat in bed braiding my hair. Daphne, for some reason, was nowhere to be seen.

Millie turned to me, pouting and mock-weeping. "Please help us."

I laughed.

"I don't understand. How can you be done with everything already?" Pansy questioned, annoyance and disbelief evident on her face.

Ignoring her attitude, I took the library-borrowed book from my nightstand. With a flick of my wand, it flew to the middle of their circle.

"Everything you guys need is there."

"I don't want to read," Tracey whined, pouting. "Please, Ava."

"Fine." I chuckled. I got out of bed and I grabbed my essay from my nightstand. Sitting next to them, I explained, "So, the Giant Wars were a series of battles between wizards and giants back in the 19th century. It sparked the animosity between the two beings that is still present up to this day..."

After an hour of working on their essays, Daphne came back.

"Where were you?" I asked.

She put both her hands up as if we were Aurors catching her red-handed. "I wrote my parents a letter, _jeez."_

My brows furrowed together. "For an hour?"

"No... the boys were downstairs and I chatted with them for a while."

"Is Draco there?" Pansy said, already lifting herself up from the carpet.

Daphne shook her head, making Pansy slump back down.

"Well, he was – but they went to their rooms already." Daphne shrugged.

Pansy sighed, rolling her eyes.

Daphne ignored her. She sat next to me, investigating the pieces of parchment trailing the floor.

"Is that the Giant Wars essay? I haven't done mine." She looked at me expectantly.

"I just finished helping them!" I raised my hands in exasperation, gesturing to the three girls and the parchment in front of them.

"Please, Ava," she said, pouting.

Tracey and Millie laughed.

I handed her my essay, and with a playful roll of my eyes, I said, "Just make sure to change the words."

"You're the best," she sang. I retreated back to my bed and Daphne headed straight for the desk.

By midnight, the room was silent apart from heavy and even breathing. I stared at the window, waiting for another squid or another fish to swim by. All the candles had been extinguished, only the slight green glow from the lake illuminating the room.

After a few more minutes of staring at nothing, I've given up my attempt at sleep. I got out of bed, making sure everyone was in deep slumber before slipping out onto the common room. I tiptoed out of the dungeons, and with my wand in my hand, I transfigured into a white dove.  
  
  


Those damned first years.

Earlier today, I was walking to my last class when I overheard a group of first-year Gryffindors talking about how excited they were for Quidditch.

"Bet you two galleons, Malfoy's going to lose to Potter again."

I stopped mid-step, a swell of anger shooting straight to my head.

I turned, glaring. "What did you just say?"

Their eyes went wide as they shook their heads frantically, one of them managing to blurt out "nothing" in a small voice.

I pointed to the prefect's badge on my chest.

"Five points for each of you," I snarled.

Their comments echoed through my brain for the rest of the day.

Grabbing the pole of my Nimbus 2001 with both hands, I pushed up from the ground. For the past few days, I've been sneaking out past curfew to practice in the Quidditch pitch. Father has been infuriated with me for constantly losing to Potter, and I was determined to make him proud this year. After everything my parents have done for me, I figured they deserved to have a son they'll be proud of.

In the air, I swooped and turned, attempting to fly faster and faster. I envisioned the Golden Snitch flying away from me, Potter trailing behind me, and the cheers from the crowd but instead of them rooting for _The Boy Who Lived,_ they rooted for _me_. Because _I_ worked hard for this. _I_ have been training for this as soon as I could walk. _I_ spent days and nights to be as good as I am now.

Yet, it's _Potter_ who was hailed as the best Seeker of the century. The same Potter who had no idea flying broomsticks existed. The same Potter who hasn't even played Quidditch before joining the team.

I gripped the pole tighter out of frustration.

After about 30 minutes of drills, I saw a white bird flapping around me before flying away.

I pointed my wand at the bird midair, and exclaimed, "Descendo!"

I watched it fall, expecting it to land on its crows and simply fly back up. Instead, its limbs extended to those of a human, and falling onto the grass was a girl. The last remnant of my frustration melted away but was quickly replaced by a rising panic.

If it's a professor, I'll–

Father will literally murder me if I get myself expelled.

_Fuck._

I squinted my eyes down at her figure. She laid still, so still and in panic, I thought, _did I just fucking murder someone?_

Then she stirred on the grass, wincing as she sat up. She brought her hand to part the black disheveled hair covering her face and as soon as her eyes came into view, I was met with a glare so seething, I jolted backward on my broom.

"Honestly, Draco! Why would you do _that_ to an innocent bird?!" Ava huffed, her face contorted in a pained grimace and a look of pure incredulity as she stared up at me.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

I shifted forward to dip down and descend.

"I... was bored?" I offered stupidly just as my feet hit the grass.

"Bored?!" She scoffed as she stood up, wincing.

"How was I supposed to know that was you?" I argued, strolling towards her. "And – and you're an Animagus? What – when did that – what?!"

"What?! Normal people don't hit birds out of nowhere, Draco! You didn't have to know I was an–"

"You shouldn't have flew near me if you didn't want to–"

Her eyes went wide. "What – so now it's _my_ fault?!"

"How was I supposed to know?!"

" _Again –_ you didn't have to know! If you go around hitting random birds with spells, I would suggest a trip to St. Mungo's–"

"St. Mungo's?! It was only a ' _descendo'!_ You act as if I tried to kill you–"

"Yes, well, if I were flying any higher I could have died, don't you think?!"

"But you weren't! I do not deserve the disrespect you're showing me right now and–"

Her face was twisted with fury. "Disrespect? _I'm_ disrespecting _you?_ Are you kidding me–"

"You insinuated that I belong in St. Mungo's–!"

"You made me fall from the sky! How am I the disrespectful one?!"

"Are you even registered?!"

She gasped, her eyes going wide as she staggered backward.

My question obviously hit a nerve as she wrapped an arm around herself, staring down at the grass meekly.

"You're not, aren't you?" I laughed.

"I will be... soon," she mumbled, still looking down.

"You know you could be sent to Azkaban for that," I teased. "Remember Rita Skeeter? Potter and his minions threatened to have her imprisoned if she–"

Her eyes darted back up to me, then.

My eyes went round in surprise.

Her chin was quivering, her face was crumpling, and – _Salazar,_ help me – her eyes were welling up with tears. And – and – this is something I will never _ever_ admit to anyone _ever_ but–

Crying girls is my Achilles' heel.

There was just something so – _riveting_ and _debilitating_ about seeing a girl cry. Something about the way their noses turn pink and their eyes doleful and – it made me _weak_ and–

I _hated_ it.

And Ava Adara–

I've known her for over five years and not once have I seen her composure falter. It was something I've always silently admired about her. She was tight-lipped whenever the rest of us made a ruckus, hung her head low whenever our House got in trouble, and she wore a perpetual smile that I couldn't seem to shake off.

Up until tonight.

"Are you crying?"

She launched herself towards my feet, kneeling.

I staggered back.

"Please don't say anything to anyone. I'll do anything." Her voice wavered and cracked and the sound was enough to make me hiss.

"I–," I swallowed, "–I won't."

And I shouldn't have been trying to stop her onslaught of tears, but I was.

I rationalized.

I hated when my mother cried, and crying girls remind me of my mother crying.

 _Yes,_ that's why.

She sat back, rapidly blinking back tears as she looked up at me, a stricken expression on her face. She looked absolutely terrified, her lips stuck in a slight pout, pink and a little flaky – probably from the incessant gust of wind that September brought. I noticed she's started trimming her eyebrows, and in contrast to the bushy-browed girl I grew up with, this version of her looked a lot better.

"Why would I? I have nothing to gain so – calm down, won't you?" I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Besides... you're one of us."

She stared at me, sniffling.

Not wanting to suffer a moment of awkward silence, I joked, "So unless you have a silly crush on Potter then I have nothing against you."

With wide eyes, she furiously shook her head, and said, "I don't."

 _Good_.

"Stop crying," I said sternly, getting sick of the sight rather quickly. "You cry awfully fast."

Her brows furrowed, her expression alternating between fear and indignance. "Only because you just said you were going to send me to Azkaban."

 _My_ brows furrowed. "I didn't."

" _Yes_ , you did."

"No, I said you _could_ be sent to Azkaban for that.'"

"Well, _you're_ Draco Malfoy so..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, taking a step forward.

She winced. "I – nothing... sorry."

An out-of-place laugh escaped my lips at how easy it was to make her cower now in contrast to the livid girl kicking and screaming just a few minutes ago.

"Get up," I ordered, smirking.

It was only when she was standing just a meter away from me when I noticed what she was wearing. She had on a flimsy, almost see-through white silk chemise that fell just a few inches above her knees, and a matching robe with the ties undone, which I assumed was from falling 10 feet from the sky.

I quickly averted my eyes when I realized I probably stared a little too long, but it was too late.

She hastily adjusted her robe, knotting its ties securely around her waist.

I stared at my broomstick.

She cleared her throat. "What were you doing?"She smiled at me brightly, acting as if nothing absurd had happened.

"It's none of your business," I snapped. "Just go back to your room before I give you detention."

"Oh. Okay," she muttered. Before she walked away, she gave me a small smile followed by an awkward wave.

_Out of all the people I could have bumped into tonight, it just had to be her._

Contrary to popular belief, I _am_ human. Just like any other teenage boy, I could also feel flustered when I see a pretty girl in a thin (and short, might I add) dress.

_Ava Adara._

I racked my brain for any information I had about her.

She mostly kept to herself so I actually had little to no idea. She was always with Greengrass and she sat with us most of the time. Her uncle was in the Ministry, and I remember distinctly a conversation I had with my father on my first Christmas holiday back from Hogwarts. When I told him about the students in my year, his eyebrows shot up at the mention of Adara's name. He demanded that under no circumstance should I give that girl a hard time.

I wondered if that deal has expired now that her uncle was dead. If not then – _my bad?_

Then there's the fact that Crabbe, Goyle, and basically every other guy I knew thought she was fit. Not necessarily _beautiful_ but she was willowy and had full heart-shaped lips. But then again, some boys were easily impressed.

She's an orphan, and for that reason, I couldn't bring myself to agree with them on her _level of attractiveness_. No one really knew who her parents were, and though Aster Adara was a well-respected pureblood, for all I knew she could be a _mudblood._ Still, no one really paid her any attention, good or bad. She'd get the occasional stares but no one in my circle would actually _pursue_ her. The ambiguity of her blood was dangerous territory, and it was a trail no one dared to track.

I shook the awkward feeling off. Making sure she was gone, I carefully readjusted my pants before grabbing my broom and continuing with my drills.

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Strange Birds – Birdy (Feel Beat x sftprod Remix)_


	4. Transfiguration

My brain was going at a thousand kilometers per hour.

_What if he tells someone?_

_But why would he? Like he said, he had nothing to gain._

_But he's Draco Malfoy. Only idiots would ever take his word for it._

I walked out of the Quidditch pitch, and as soon as I was out of his sight, I ran to the edge of a spectator stand where I hid my wand. Pointing the tip to my chest, I uttered the incantation, " _amato animo animato animagus_." With my beak, I grabbed the wand off the ground and I flew back into Hogwarts.

Once I was back in the dungeons, I made multiple attempts to transfigure back and yet, there I was, five minutes later: heart bursting out of my chest, panic gripping my throat, and still, a bird.

I perched myself on a ledge by the entrance and I willed myself to calm down enough to envision my human form.

Just my luck, as I was about to finally turn, Draco had rounded up the corner.

Out of fright, I fell onto the wooden floor with a loud thump, the bottom of my spine hitting the ground. My head almost collided with the wall, and if I hadn't caught myself just in time, I would have had to add a swollen lump in the back of my head to my growing list of wounds I've obtained tonight.

I brought my hand to my face in shame.

Draco filled the corridor with the sound of his laughter.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he teased, still laughing.

"I'm glad you find this amusing," I retorted. I brought myself up from the floor as he whispered ' _Black Lake'_ to the stone wall in front of us.

The entrance hissed as it lifted itself off the stone.

"Careful now... let me remind you that you are at my mercy," he replied with a smirk as he pulled open the door with one hand, his broomstick on the other.

As we entered the common room, the pole of his Firebolt hit my hip bone, prompting me to yelp.

I glared at him in the dark.

I rushed to the entrance of the girl's dormitory and with a sarcastic smile plastered on, I said in my most cheery voice, "Good night, Draco."

He merely waved his hand as if he were shooing me away, heading straight towards the boy's dormitory.

I rolled my eyes at his retreating figure before I snuck my way back into my room.

The girls were still sleeping humbly with light snores emanating from Millie's side. Even Sofia, who was laying on the pillow under my nightstand, hasn't moved an inch. I tiptoed back into bed, making sure not to wake any of them and as soon as my head hit my pillow, I fell asleep.

That night, I dreamt of a giant with hair as white as snow, and on his hand was a bird. He looked as if he were contemplating whether to crush the small animal or to let it fly. Then it all became a blur of grey stone, charred robes, and black eyes. The next thing I knew, I sat on the palm of the giant, the bird nowhere to be seen. And then the giant started crying but instead of tears, black snakes slithered down his cheeks. One of them was just about to strike when–

The fear broke me out of my nightmare. When I opened my eyes, sunlight was peeking in through the lake, flooding the room with a subtle teal glow. I shifted under my blankets, attempting to shield my eyes from the sudden light.

I was suddenly very much aware of the pain all over my body.

"Oh, good. You're awake," I heard Daphne say.

I half-groaned, half-yawned as I stretched my arms up over my head.

"What time is it? Feels like I've only been asleep for five minutes," I said, rubbing the sleep off my eyes.

"It's 9 AM and you missed breakfast," she said matter-of-factly. She was leaning over a desk, hastily scribbling on a piece of parchment.

I sighed.

"But I snuck out some crumpets," she added after a beat.

I smiled. "Thank you." I scanned the room only to see vacated beds. "Where are the others?"

"They went to watch Gryffindor Quidditch practice," she replied, still looking down at whatever it was she was working on.

I nodded. _'Watch,'_ meant _'torment.'_

"The crumpets are on your nightstand," she said, distracted.

My stomach grumbled at the sight of it. I grabbed one and I devoured it immediately.

Just as I was about to go for another, she asked, "Why did you wake up so late, by the way?"

My stomach dropped at the reminder of last night's events. That silver-eyed, blonde-haired boy knew that I was an Animagus and that I was an unregistered one at that.

"I don't know. I couldn't fall asleep," I lied and the guilt immediately rushed through me.

I wanted to tell Daphne. As much as I hated lying, we both realized early on just how much deceit was necessary for our survival in Slytherin. We had to laugh at offensive jokes, keep quiet whenever we witnessed something dishonorable, pretend to agree with opinions we didn't believe in... She's got more leeway. She's a Greengrass after all, but still. Sacred family or not, there were rules and beliefs in our House that were not our place to question.

When we were thirteen, we promised to, at least, be honest with each other. It was our way to hold on to who we truly were. To know that someone out there knew how we truly felt. I've never lied to her before, and I wished I didn't need to lie to her now, but I did.

It was a crime I needed to hide.

Despite once being the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Aster was also an unregistered Animagus. I grew up under the instruction never to speak about my uncle's secret to anyone or else there will be grave repercussions. When I started the process of becoming one, it was simply assumed I would be doing the same thing. He explained it was a matter of _just in case_ and I never really questioned it. In his world, there was a lot of just in casesituations. He did live through Grindelwald _and_ the Dark Lord. As for me, I'm not entirely sure.

Daphne and I stayed in our dormitory for the rest of the morning. I took a bath as soon as I finished my breakfast and while in the bathroom, I counted the bruises on my arms and thighs. I had one on each elbow, the left one darker than the other. I had another just above my right thigh and I thanked the universe I wasn't flying up too high when Draco hit me with his spell. I had a graze just below my left knee from throwing myself at his feet, and I inwardly derided myself for my behavior the night before. It was utterly embarrassing just how desperate I had acted, and the dread of having to see him for lunch made me feel nauseous.

When noon came, Daphne had finished her essay for Herbology and I've jotted down my most recent nightmare in my Trelawney-mandated dream journal.

As we walked up to the Great Hall, my heart started beating rapidly at the thought of having to face Draco. Knowing him, he would probably make jokes about it to taunt me. Maybe the whole school already knew and the Ministry was on their way to lock me up. Or maybe–

My mind played a hundred different scenarios and by the time we entered the Great Hall, I had convinced myself that I was going to Azkaban.

When we sat on the Slytherin table, I braced myself for the worst but to my surprise, Draco barely even acknowledged my existence. He was busy arguing with the boys about the Tutshill Tornados and whether they _'just got lucky'_ or _'no, they're cheating wankers'_ or _'what the fuck? it's because of their new Seeker'._ The girls joined in the conversation and even Daphne got heated up at one point.

By the end of lunchtime, Draco hadn't even glanced in my direction.

I was just starting to feel relieved when he invited all of us to watch their Quidditch tryouts. As much as Daphne and I wanted to say no, Crabbe and Goyle were trying out as Beaters and were forcing everyone to come and support them.

We were all walking towards the Quidditch pitch when Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle matched my pace behind the group. Daphne was a few steps ahead of me, chatting with Millie about a shared family friend who just got married to this _'sorry excuse of a wizard'_ while Tracey and Pansy gossiped about Merlin knows what.

"What a great day to fly, huh, Crabbe?" Draco said with a grin, looking directly at me. "Days like these make me wish I could have wings, you know?"

My heart dropped to my feet.

I scanned the faces of his two cronies. Beads of sweat were sprinkled on their forehead as they looked down at the ground, lost in thought. Under the glare of the sun, I barely managed to see Crabbe slowly nod his head.

"You boys okay?" I asked, ignoring Draco's smirk.

Both Crabbe and Goyle rolled back their shoulders, puffed out their chests, and looked at me as if I've said the most insulting thing in the world.

"Of course we are!" Crabbe said, trying to flex his non-existent muscles.

I bit back a laugh.

"Of course!" I said, attempting to match his energy.

Draco laughed.

"They better be," Draco said. "We've been practicing for days. If they aren't... well, they're dead."

"Right..." I said.

"What about you, Adara? Not trying out?" Draco teased.

"I would... but it would be too unfair for the other houses," I joked, making the boys snicker.

Everyone who knew me knew that I could not be trusted to play Quidditch. It was one of the few failures of Aster's life, and he _really_ tried to get me into it.

The rest of the walk was spent by Draco talking about strategies and Crabbe and Goyle listening intently, as I – _thankfully_ – faded into the background.

Once in the Quidditch pitch, the girls took their seats on a spectator tower where higher year Slytherins sat to watch. The try-outs started almost immediately and I had no idea what was happening, so I just cheered when the others cheered and stayed silent when the others were silent. Pansy and her other friends would squeal whenever Draco did something mildly impressive. Even the older Slytherin girls were ogling Draco like he was a snack.

For the first time, I actually took the time to watch him play. His hands gripped the pole of his broomstick tightly, making the veins in his arms pop. The brightness of the sun made his light blond hair look almost white, and when he swerved in an attempt to catch the Golden Snitch, he furrowed his brows in concentration. He looked almost... attractive.

But then again, it was mostly because he was keeping his mouth shut.

As soon as the game finished and it was announced that Draco would get to keep his position as Seeker this year, he started swanking about it to everybody, and any ounce of attraction I might have had completely went down the drain. As expected, Crabbe and Goyle were also announced as the two new Beaters, much to the delight of their egos.

The rest of the weekend was spent in the common room with everyone working on their pile of essays and homework. Draco made the occasional jokes which were just enough to keep me on edge, but not enough for the others to become suspicious.

On Sunday night, Draco received a letter from his father telling him about the move the Ministry made to appoint Professor Umbridge as High Inquisitor. Upon hearing the news, the table erupted with questions and protests.

"High Inquisitor? What does that even mean?" Blaise asked, one eyebrow raised.

"The old hag... has power over Dumbledore," Draco said, a glint flittering on his eyes.

Then it became a dilemma of who they hated more: shrill and annoying Umbridge or Gryffindor-lover Dumbledore?

By Monday morning, all everyone could talk about was the front page of the Daily Prophet.

**MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM, DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR.**

Breakfast in the Great Hall was filled with gasps and complaints as students mulled over the news. Meanwhile, I and almost everyone else in the Slytherin table made sure to send a sweet smile to Professor Umbridge.

In Potions, Professor Snape returned our moonstone essays and I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw the 'E' (Exceeds Expectations) plastered on top of it. I then rolled my eyes when Draco turned to Crabbe and Goyle, bragging about his own 'E'.

After lunch we had Divination and we got to see the new High Inquisitor in action. Professor Umbridge interrogated Professor Trelawney and by the end of her class, the former did not seem impressed. Despite Trelawney being an obvious fraud, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sympathy for the sniveling woman.

Then, we had Defense Against the Dark Arts where Potter and Granger stole the stage once again, earning Potter another week's worth of detention.

What I never understood about the Gryffindors were their inability to keep their mouth shut. Granger being as smart as she is, you would think she ought to know how to pick her battles, but no _._

They proved my point once more in breakfast the next day when this year's Gryffindor Quidditch captain – Angelina Johnson, I think her name was – started screaming bloody murder, making me drop the toast I was holding. Something about Potter and Quidditch and detention.

Everyone at my table either rolled their eyes, shook their head, or glared at their direction.

The day went as ordinarily as it could have been, up until Transfiguration.

"Daphne," I heard someone whisper. "Switch with me."

Daphne and I snapped our heads back to see Draco leaning over his desk. Her eyes grew wide, darting from me to Draco then back to me in one swift motion. My heart rate quickened as dread crashed through me, and I thought–

_Here it comes. He's changed his mind. I'm going to Azkaban._

But then–

_I doubt it. I haven't done anything to make him change his mind. Have I?_

And as much as I wanted to delay the inevitable, we both knew better than to say "no" to Draco Malfoy.

Daphne shot me a worried look before grabbing her schoolbag and as soon as Professor McGonagall turned her back to the class, the two switched places.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, a careful smile still in place. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms just as Professor McGonagall turned back to face the class. Despite their efforts, she seemed to have noticed the switch, giving the three of us _the_ look.

I leaned towards my desk, hurriedly grabbing my quill and jotting down what was written on the board.

Minutes passed. Draco then leaned near me and whispered, "You know O.W.L.s are coming soon and I thought that since you're an Anima–"

"Shh!" My brows furrowed together as I whipped my head around to catch any eavesdroppers.

When I turned back to him, he had a glower set on my face.

"Anyway," he continued, rolling his eyes and lowering his voice, "I assume you're good in this class, and I could use some help."

I narrowed my eyes. "I am," I said, "but you're doing just fine in Transfiguration. Why would you need my help?"

He shrugged. "I could always do better. Besides, you kind of owe me."

He winked, making me scoff.

"Owe you? _I_ owe _you_?"

He hummed in agreement.

"Aren't you going to apologize for making me fall?" I whispered, honeying my tone, sounding almost like – like – like _Umbridge_ , I realized.

"Why were you even flying around me in the first place?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"I–," I started to say. I was only flying aroundwhen I saw Draco in the Quidditch pitch so I went to take a closer look.

"Spying on me, weren't you?" he teased.

"I was not," I huffed.

"Sure you weren't," he chimed. "If you wanted a picture, you should have just said so."

_Yeah, and you need to get your head out of your own arse._

"Anyway... will you help me or not?"

I sighed, pretending to think about it for a few moments before nodding.

Like I said, I knew better than to say no to Draco Malfoy.

" _Hem_ , _hem_ ," Umbridge said from the back of the class. Almost simultaneously, Lavender placed two mice in front of Draco. I reached over to get one and I caught a whiff of his scent and I must regretfully admit he smelled asgood as he was annoying.

"What's this for? I wasn't paying attention," I asked him.

Still leaning back on his seat, he gave a disinterested shrug. Around the same time, Seamus handed me back my essay. I breathed out another sigh of relief when I saw another 'E' plastered on the front. Peeking at Draco's, I saw that he, too, got an 'E'.

I sent him a tight-lipped smile.

"Right then, everyone, listen closely – Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again, I shall put you in detention – most of you have successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be–..."

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge.

"Yes?" Professor McGonagall asked, turning around.

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec–"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked–"

The rest of their conversation was reduced to background noise as I watched Draco. For days, he had been the cause of my sleepless nights. Just thinking about the thought that he held the secret that could quite simply ruin my life made me shoot up from bed at unholy hours of the morning, my heart thundering against my chest and a heaviness coiling just below my ribcage.

I had to do something about it.

I thought about all the people Draco treats with decency. His parents, certainly. Anyone who knew him well enough knew he would be willing to kill for them if he had to. Theo, but that was because the two grew up with each other and their parents are friends. Pansy, Millie, and Daphne for the exact same reason. Blaise because of shared interests and beliefs, and I'm certain Draco would treat Crabbe and Goyle better if the two weren't so thick in the head. He had never really been foul towards me, but that was most likely because he barely even acknowledged my existence. He would only ever talk to me to ask about a lesson or an assignment or if he needed to borrow a quill.

Maybe if he thought of me as a friend, it would be less likely for him to tell anyone about my secret.

I decided then and there to make it my personal mission to make Draco Malfoy care about _me_.

The class started and ended the way it usually did, except today, Umbridge was at the back jotting down notes on her clipboard, and I sat next to a blond-haired boy instead of a blonde-haired girl.

On our way to Care For Magical Creatures, Daphne nudged me on the shoulder, gesturing for me to stay behind so that the group could walk ahead of us. Once they were a good few meters away from us, she turned to me with a quizzical look on her face.

"I thought we hated Draco," Daphne questioned with raised eyebrows.

My lips parted slightly, unable to compose a convincing response as quick as I wanted to.

"I don't – He's – I'm," I stammered."He – he's not _that_ bad. I mean, I still don't like him, but he's tolerable," I lied.

"You go from barely ever talking to him to sitting next to him in Transfiguration... What's that about?"

"I just – I bumped into him and we talked for a while," I lied again. "He's not that bad."

"Ava... his father..." Her tone was reprimanding.

"Yeah... I know. I'm not doing anything, I'm just – I don't know." I averted my eyes.

Daphne squeezed my arm.

"Just be careful," she muttered with a small smile.

I nodded.

_A little too late for that._


	5. Golden Snitch

My lungs felt like they were burning. Yet another dream about Azkaban. I woke up drenched in sweat, the image of Draco Malfoy looking down at me with the blade of his dagger digging into the skin of my throat still etched on the back of my eyes.

Nightmares never made any sense. It was always a blur of darkness and Dementors and death. But for the past week, what was constant was him. Every single night, he was my executioner. Every night, I died under his hand.

Just when I thought there was no way I could hate Draco Malfoy more than I already did, he found a way to do just that.

I've been to Azkaban once before. I was seven. Eleanor was visiting Aunt Lara and her husband, and I was left with Aster in Cornwall. We were just packing food and towels and board games for a day out in the boat when a black owl swept in through the window. It dropped a letter in the middle of our breakfast table, the blood-red of the Ministry of Magic seal a contrast to the white tablecloth under it.

All too soon, Aster and I were hand-in-hand inside our fireplace, Floo powder in his hand as he exclaimed, "Azkaban!"

I remember it had been the most frightening place I had ever visited. I remember bursting into tears when I had caught sight of a Dementor. I remember that it was cold and misty. I felt the Dark Magic coursing through the air. Aster carried me in his arms, apologizing profusely to the Aurors who he was supposed to meet. Apparently, there was an emergency. Someone had attempted to escape.

Aster left me in a room conjured to look like a playground.

A few years later, I found out that he was called to authorize the Dementor's Kiss.

Since then, I had always feared Azkaban more than anything else.

As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I stared at the bruises Draco gave me. Offensive purple has faded into a subtle brown, yet they remain as angry reminders of a certain snow-haired boy that held in his hand the chance for me to face my greatest fear.

I swallowed all the resentment I had for him in preparation for what I had in plan.

I started with what I already knew. He ate breakfast early. He kept useful people around. Crabbe and Goyle for protection. Pansy for his ego. He was arrogant and spoiled.

I could work with that.

I exited the bathroom, taking extra time to fix my hair and picking out my favorite perfume. I checked the clock. 7:13 AM. The rest of the girls were preoccupied. Millie still had her face stuck on a pillow, Tracey was on the desk, hastily writing on her dream journal, Pansy had gone in the bathroom after I had left, and Daphne was sat on her bed, crossed-leg and back straight as she brushed through her long, golden locks.

"I'll head over to breakfast," I announced, forcing a nonchalant tone. I couldn't afford to be suspected by any of them.

To my relief, they just waved me away, too busy or too sleepy to care what I do at this time of the morning.

When I entered the Great Hall, my pulse doubled. I had been expecting it, but coming face to face with _him_ still triggered my fight or flight.

I dug my nails into my palm as I walked towards the Slytherin table.

I plastered on a smile. "Good morning," I said, my tone bright.

Just as expected, he ignored me. Crabbe and Goyle looked up, nodded halfheartedly, then went back to devouring their breakfasts.

My feet itched to walk towards where I usually sat with Daphne. Instead, I walked up towards Draco.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked, gesturing to the empty space on the bench next to him.

He scowled, rolling his eyes. "Does it look like it's taken?"

I took a deep breath, swallowing down my irritation. "No," I said, smiling. "It doesn't."

I sat down, making sure to still keep my distance. I grabbed a bowl of cereal, racking my brain for conversation starters.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, wincing immediately as soon as the words left my mouth.

He looked at me, irritation flashing across his face. Then he turned back to his meal, leaving my question unanswered.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, realizing just how daunting my plan was.

I made a mental note: _Listen in on his conversations. Find out what he likes._

When he reached for the platter of bacon, I let my spoon clang on my bowl in an attempt to reach it first.

"Oh, sorry," I lied when my fingers wrapped around the serving tong, his fingers brushing against the back of my hand. "How many?" I asked.

His nose flared, his eyes narrowing at me. "Two."

I refilled his plate, plastering on another smile. He ignored it.

We ate the rest of breakfast in silence.

After the three of them had finished eating, they got up from the table, none of them having the manners to at least announce their departure or even wave a hand goodbye. I watched them exit the Great Hall in the pompous way that they did, releasing a sigh of relief when the doors closed shut.

Soon after, Daphne and the others arrived.

"I can't believe I missed Draco again today," Pansy said as she sat down.

"That's what you get for being so grumpy in the mornings," Daphne retorted.

I moved back to where Daphne and I usually sat, and she gave me a fleeting look of suspicion before turning back to Pansy.

"Why don't you get breakfast earlier then? Doesn't Draco eat first thing in the morning?" Tracey asked.

"He's still _just_ a boy. He's not worth losing an extra minute of sleep." Pansy yawned. "Anyway, Ava, you were here. Did he say anything to you?"

"Uh... not really. He seemed tired this morning so..."

To my relief, Pansy didn't ask more questions. I was certain that whatever it was I planned to do would irk her but as much as I wanted to feel guilty, I couldn't.

Pansy has fancied Draco since they were little. You would think she would have given up by now after years of chasing after nothing, but that girl was determined to become a Malfoy. I was almost certain she's set her mind to it before she learned what romance or love even meant. Daphne told me once that even her parents have gently nudged her in Draco's direction. She explained that it was a Sacred family thing. There weren't a lot of purefamilies left in Britain and almost all of them were somehow related. They haven't got a lot of choices, and the fact that Draco was both a Malfoy and a Black meant that he was somewhat royalty even to them. She reckons Pansy's little crush on Draco had to do with status and making her parents happy more than anything.

Morning ended as quickly as it came. Divination was once again spent doing _absolutely_ nothing, Arithmancy was a pain, and if I were being honest, I would have rather taken Muggle Studies if only I weren't going to face public persecution for it.

Before I knew it, it was the afternoon, and Daphne and I were walking from the library to Transfiguration.

"Is Draco going to sit with you today?" Daphne asked with a sideways glance. She was reading a book as we walked down the stairs, and I had my hand on her elbow to keep her from falling.

"I think so?"

"And it's because he needs help in Transfiguration." The skepticism was clear in her voice.

"That is correct."

"Mhm... and it's not weird at all," she added as she turned a page from the book.

"Why would it be? We're all friends... right?"

She looked at me pointedly. "Sure."

When we got to the classroom, Draco was already sitting on Daphne's seat. He was turned away from our desk as he laughed at something Crabbe had said.

I sat next to him, and Daphne took a seat next to Millie a few rows in front of us.

"Hi," I said, turning my head towards him with a rehearsed smile on my face.

He held his left hand up to my face, gesturing for me to wait, as he continued talking to his friends.

_Right._

My eyes darted across the room in an attempt to find something to settle my eyes on. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall entered that he finally turned to me.

"What do you want?" he said, scowling.

"I just wanted to ask how you were," I said, plastering on a casual smile.

"Why?" he drew out, furrowing his brows.

"Just wanted to know." I shrugged, forcing the ends of my lips to turn upwards.

He squinted his eyes at me before turning to face Professor McGonagall.

"So... how are you?" I insisted, leaning forward to rest my chin on the palm of my hand.

"I'm fine?" he replied, keeping his eyes on the chalkboard.

"Great! Me too."

"I didn't ask."

"Right..."

Another note: _Does not appreciate small talk._

I turned to face Professor McGonagall as she started to brief us on the activities for the day. Just like all the other days, we were tasked to attempt to vanish mice. The Vanishing Spell echoed throughout the room as students flicked and waved their wands in front of the mice. I rolled my eyes as Crabbe and Goyle grabbed theirs by its tails and whipped it around like a morning star. Professor McGonagall made haste towards their desk to lecture them on the value of all creatures, " _even mice!"_ Halfway through the class, I managed to vanish the poor thing.

"How did you do that?" Draco asked, frustration clear in his voice.

"Just," I said, demonstrating with my wand, "then say ' _Evanesco_.'"

"What do you think I've been doing for the past hour?" He glared at me.

"Here... just–," I said, grabbing the hand that was holding his wand. I guided his movement to make sure he knew how and when to flick.

When I let go, hewiped the back of his hand on his robe.

I almost scoffed out loud. I bit the inside of my cheek, conjuring all the patience I could muster within me.

Note: _Does not like being touched._

"Sorry," I said, clenching my jaw. All he responded with was a simple nod.

The rest of the week passed, and I made sure to be at Draco's beck and call. If he needed to borrow a book, I had it. If he left his parchment in his room, I offered mine to him. I even started carrying an extra quill just in case he asked to borrow one, and at some point in the common room earlier today, he actually did. I also made it a habit to have breakfast earlier just so I could eat next to him in silence for a few minutes. I did all of that only to be met with suspicious glances and worse, even more jokes about birds and Animagi.

The lack of progress was recuperated by a confirmation: _acts of service are indeed one of his soft spots._ It was obvious from the start, but this week has made the theory definite. Once or twice, I had caught the corners of his lips turned up after I had offered him help.

I could work with that.

Therefore, despite Daphne's constant suspicious glances and Pansy's eviscerating glares, I was there... sneaking out past curfew just for the slightest chance I run into him again in the Quidditch pitch.

I flew out of the castle and past the Forbidden Forest and sure enough, Draco was there flying on his broom. I swooped down towards one of the spectator stands, and I perched myself onto one of the benches before turning myself back to human, waving to him with a smile on my face.

He ignored me. _Again_.

He continued doing drills of some sort and I sat there watching him. I shivered from the cold and I thanked my intuition for remembering to put on a jumper before leaving the dormitory. After a few minutes, Draco descended onto the ground, and I walked down to meet him.

He stormed towards me with a scowl and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intimidated. He was wearing a black jacket with the hood up and from this distance, he looked like one of the Death Eaters who stormed the Quidditch World Cup last year. He paused an arm's length away, crossing his arms and looking me up and down. It felt very much like a threat.

"What are you doing here?" His tone was sharp and accusing.

"I was just flying around and I wanted to check if you were here," I said, reciting from my memorized list of possible answers.

"Why?" He scoffed. "You have a crush on me or something?"

My head jerked back to my neck. "What – no – I – _no!"_ I swallowed, realizing I had not accounted for this possibility.

"What is this then?"

"Nothing," I said.

"You've been following me like a trained _dog_ for the past couple of days. Who asked you to spy on me?"

"Nobody," I insisted.

The panic was rising up my throat and–

"Adara... if you don't tell me the truth now, I'll–"

He stopped in his tracks, slowly tilting his head.

In one stride, he's closed the distance between us, his face getting close as he scanned mine. I flinched when he brushed the hair from my forehead, his grey eyes only inches away. My eyes widened at the abruptness and _closeness_ of it all, I almost slapped his hand away.

"What are you doing?" I asked, shrinking into myself.

He squinted his eyes at me.

"Turn around," he said.

I frowned. "Why?"

"Turn around," he commanded. I did, and with one hand, he lifted the hair from my back, carefully examining every nook and crevice.

I felt flustered under his gaze.

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

He ignored me, lifting my arms in an eagle-spread as he circled around my body.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "What – are – you – doing?"

He brushed his hand over his hair, still scanning my body. "Someone had Polyjuiced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle before."

"And?" I demanded, his lack of respect for personal space breaking my composure.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"I'll wait," he said, smirking.

"Wait for what?"

He looked at me as though I had said something stupid.

When my irritation had faded away, it dawned on me.

"I'm not Polyjuiced," I said, scowling.

"That's exactly what someone Polyjuiced would say."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want me to do to prove it to you?"

"The Slytherin passcode?"

"Black Lake."

"Your full name?"

"Ava Rose Adara."

"Birthday?"

I squinted my eyes. "Do you even know when my birthday is?"

"Just answer the question."

"February 1, 1981."

He pursed his lips, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Draco." I sighed in exasperation. "You saw me transfigure as a bird."

He shook his head. "I didn't. I just saw you sitting there."

I rolled my eyes again. Pointing my wand to my chest, I muttered the incantation.

My arms turned to wings and my feet into crows. He caught my wand before it fell on the ground, and stowed it inside the pocket of his jacket. Then he turned to me with a look of pure and utter amazement.

"How did you manage to hide this from everyone?" he said, stretching his hand towards me.

I perched myself on his knuckles, his other hand reaching for my wings. And with a cautious gentleness, his fingers grazed my feathers. It was... _odd._ Somehow comforting but incredibly odd. He brought me near his face, studying my figure with a certain childlike curiosity.

And for a second, I had let myself settle on the back of his hand.

But then in typical Draco Malfoy fashion, he _threw_ me.

He threw me up the air, and it was as though my heart had been left behind. It was jarring, and I was certain that if I were to turn back to human, I would have vomited all over myself. My vision was blurry but I managed to flap my wings to keep myself from careening toward the ground.

I could hear his laughter from down below.

I wanted to _hurt_ him. I wanted to peck my beak at his arm until he bled. Or transfigure back and slap him across the face. He was so–

_Inconsiderate._

_Disrespectful._

_Cruel._

He evoked a fury in me that no one else could. The little sliver of guilt I had felt for wanting to manipulate him into caring about me went completely down the drain. _He deserved it._ He deserved worse, even. After everything he had done to the people in this school, this was barely scratching the surface of what he _deserved._

I breathed in the night air, willing myself to calm down. My plan was not going to work if I constantly let my emotions get to me.

With a newfound resolve, I set out to test a new hypothesis.

I flipped and flew in circles around him in an attempt to make him laugh.

_He did._

And when I transfigured back, he looked at me with a smile on his face.

I made another note: _Humor is indeed a soft spot._

I forced another smile as I walked towards him.

The anger still bubbling inside of me, I put my morals on pause. I took off my jumper, letting my black chemise slide up my thigh slightly.

"September weather is weird," I said, sitting down the grass next to where he stood.

He had gone quiet as he looked down at me.

Taking advantage of my position, I flipped my hair to one shoulder, subtly stretching my neck for him to see. In my most innocent voice, I looked up at him and said, "Sit with me?"

I saw his Adam's apple bob against his neck as he swallowed.

I almost rolled my eyes when he complied without a word of complaint.

"To answer your question, I only became an Animagus last December. And I only started sneaking out to fly this month. If we were on the topic of _'hiding it'_ from everyone, I'm pretty sure I'm doing a pathetic job," I joked, gesturing to him.

He huffed a smile. "Point taken."

"And you? Why have you been sneaking out?" I asked, shifting my body to face him.

"Quidditch," he said, shrugging as he looked down on the ground.

"Training with your teammates isn't enough?" I teased.

"If it were, then _I'm_ doing a pathetic job," he said, twisting his fingers on the grass and pulling them out. "Slytherin hasn't exactly won the House Cup in what? Five years?"

I stared at him. His eyes were downturned, his lips pursed into a thin line, and his head bowed down.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, his admission making a puddle of my brain. I didn't know what to say. I knew no level of comfort would be accepted. A joke seemed inappropriate.

The window of time before the silence turned awkward was closing, and in my panic, I said–

"Maybe I could help."

He turned to me, his brows furrowed together.

I swallowed thickly, realizing I had no choice but to go through with whatever I had in mind. "I can practice with you."

He chuckled. "You are quiteliterallythe worst Quidditch player I had ever seen in my time here in Hogwarts."

"I know," I said, forcing a chuckle. Then a smile. "What I meant was... catch me."

He tilted his head. "I'm not following."

I paused, inhaling a sharp breath.

"Pretend I'm the Golden Snitch."


	6. Knitted Scarf

For the past two weeks, I've fallen into a routine of eating half of my breakfast in (mostly) silence with Draco and his cronies, and the other half with Daphne and the girls. Thankfully, most days the three boys leave before the girls arrive in the Great Hall. Still, Pansy's glares have gotten more and more intense, especially before, during, and after Transfiguration class. Daphne had grown incredibly suspicious but for the most part, she lets me be except for the occasional questioning looks which I answer with half-truths such as "He just needs help with homework," or "You know I can't say no to Draco."

Most everyone in our group doesn't really care enough to notice, and Pansy has little to no leverage against me to start blabbering about it to anybody.

Then again, their lack of suspicion might be because they didn't know I spent my Friday and Saturday nights in the Quidditch pitch, offering myself as a toy to be played with. Shortly after my proposition, Draco asked – _no_ , demanded – that I practiced with him three nights a week to which I responded by appealing a lower sentence of only two nights citing the abundance of homework as my reason. To my relief, he agreed. We met at midnight for at least an hour and a half making my Saturday and Sunday mornings almost unbearable. And as much as I wanted to sleep in, I couldn't risk people raising an eyebrow at my sleep schedule.

To my surprise, training with Draco was almost... tolerable. He was as funny as he was annoying. Though his jokes can be quite mean-spirited, there was no denying his wit. If there was anything I realized from spending _that_ much time with him was that that – in another world, he would have been great friends with Fred and George.

I wish I could say that my efforts were paying off and that Draco was warming up to me, but I honestly could not tell. He no longer glared at me nor sneered in disgust so I guess that was a good thing? Most of my smiles were met with blank looks, and the only time he would ever reciprocate was when I was laughing at something _he_ said. I've also been helping him with homework – well, I've been helping everybody – but I only ever heard him say "thank you" once and it was so low I wasn't even sure if I heard him correctly. Even when he finally vanished a mouse in Transfiguration after many hours of me guiding him (and I refrained from touching him after the wiping incident), all I received was a small smile and a nod before he turned back to Crabbe and Goyle to wanker on about it. The only time I could even consider him to be bordering on decency is when we were alone in the Quidditch pitch... but then again, we would spend more than half of the time not talking since... well, since I was a bird and I couldn't really respond to anything. Then he'd go back to tormenting me with Animagus jokes the next day.

I brought my hand to my mouth to stifle back a yawn.

We were queued up outside in front of Filch as he cross-checked our names to the list of students who were granted permission to visit Hogsmeade. The brush of wind made my hair fly up, making me shiver.

Earlier that morning, I woke up a few minutes before breakfast closed, thanks to the hour long extension Draco had demanded. I shot straight out of bed, grabbed whatever clothes I had on the top of my trunk, and casted sloppy spells on myself to make myself look as presentable as possible. I hopped up to the Great Hall with my shoe laces undone and my buttons mismatched, no scarf and no gloves despite the October breeze, just so I could grab a few bites before leaving for Hogsmeade.

I huddled up next to Daphne who was reading a book while we waited. As always, I had a hand on her elbow.

"Couldn't you have left that book back in our room? We're going to Hogsmeade, for Merlin's sake," I chided. She smiled as she turned another page of her book.

"I can't. Elizabeth's about to meet his sister." 

I chuckled.

This girl always had a book in her hand. When she wasn't reading, she was writing. It was a miracle she was still passing her classes. It would have been great if she read her textbooks just as much as she read stories of romance and adventures, but _no_. She was one of the few people who weren't phased by O.W.L.s, saying she wants to be a writer and no amount of N.E.W.T.s would get her there.

I guided her to the front of the line and Filch gave us a quick look before nodding curtly. Pansy, Tracey, and Millie were a few steps in front of us as we walked down the wide drive to the gates. Further in front, Draco and Blaise were laughing pompously at I-don't-know-what with Crabbe and Goyle following closely. Theo was right behind them but unlike the rest, he didn't make much of a noise.

It astounded me how quiet Theo can be. Most days, he would stay in their dormitory when we didn't have classes. Occasionally, he'd join us in the common room to do homework but he was so quiet, I forget that he was even there. All the times I've ever struck up a conversation, he'd answer in the driest way possible, not even bothering with the niceties. The only people I've ever seen him actually talk to were Draco and Blaise. Still, I made sure to send him a smile whenever we made eye contact.

We walked between the tall stone pillars and as we turned left on to the road into the village, Daphne finally slammed her book shut.

"Her sister just ruined their family name," Daphne complained, rolling her eyes.

"Who?"

"Lydia..."

"Ah..."

We walked down the main street towards Honeydukes where the rest of our friends had gathered. A couple of meters away, a group of twenty or so students, all hailing from the three other Houses, walked down together before rounding up a corner. Having noticed my stare, Daphne and the rest followed my gaze and I knew that despite their tough exteriors, they felt the same pang I did.

"Wonder what they're up to," Draco sneered.

Our group entered Honeydukes and we jumped through their collection of sweets and snacks. I got a handful of Pink Coconut Ice, a bag of toffee, and a piece of all the chocolate products they offered. After everyone had finished paying for their purchases, the boys headed straight to Spintwitches Sporting Needs while Pansy, Tracey, and Millie went to the hairdressing salon just across.

Before I could decide where I wanted to go next, Daphne was already dragging me towards Tomes and Scrolls.

"Don't you have enough books already?" I huffed as we entered the bookstore, the bell by the top of the door ringing as we pushed past it. Daphne ignored me as she skipped to the fiction section. She stroked the binds of each book, staring at the collection with a glint in her eyes. I sat on a dark maroon sofa near the entrance and in front of me, the owner of the shop stood behind a wooden counter as she read the Daily Prophet.

After minutes of me playing with the velvet fabric of the sofa, I heard Daphne gasp.

"Ava, look! It's a first edition Beedle the Bard!"

"I'm a hundred percent sure you have a copy sitting on your nightstand right now."

"Yes, but it's not the first edition."

"What's the difference?"

Daphne's nose scrunched up as she sent a fleeting glare my way. Then I was ignored yet again.

I shook my head, chuckling.

"I'm going for a walk," I announced. "Let's meet in The Three Broomsticks in a half-hour?"

She nodded without looking up from the shelf she was examining.

As soon as I exited the bookstore, a gust of wind whipped my hair onto my face sending shivers down my spine. I absentmindedly walked around Hogsmeade with my arms around myself, attempting to warm my body as much as I could. I passed through Gladrags Wizardwear where a few of Eleanor's designs were displayed on the front.

I walked towards the shop, my hand wrapping around the doorknob when–

"Adara!"

The boys were huddled up in front of Spintwitches across the road, holding bags of Quidditch equipment. Draco beckoned me to come over and as rehearsed, I walked to him with a smile on my face.

"I see you guys went shopping," I said as I neared their circle.

"Yup. Only the best for the Slytherin team," Goyle bragged.

"Why are you by yourself? Where's Daphne?" Blaise asked.

"Guess..." I replied, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"How many books does that girl need?" He chuckled.

"I think Pansy and the others are headed to the Three Broomsticks, should we meet them there?" Theo asked.

"Okay! I told Daphne to meet me there anyway," I said.

What would have been a ten-minute walk turned into a twenty-minute one because Crabbe and Goyle just had to stop by Zonko's Joke Shop. Draco and I stood outside the store while the two boys ravaged through the toys. Blaise and Theo leaned on the shop window a few meters away from us, deep in a conversation.

A strong gust of wind blew past and I gave an involuntary shudder.

" _Tsk_ ," Draco sounded as he shook his head. "Why didn't you bring a scarf?"

"I woke up late." My eyes narrowed up at him, confused as to how he mustered the _audacity_ to reprimand me when he was at fault.

"You couldn't have grabbed it before you left?" he jeered.

I stared up at him, blinking a mile a minute.

_You have to make him like you – you have to make him like you – you have to make him like you._

I repeated this mantra as though in meditation. Turning on my heel, I faced away from him before he could catch my eye-roll. I sighed, crossing my arms over myself.

Then came a shove on my shoulder.

My head snapped back to Draco.

He had a hand stretched out, the black knitted scarf that was around his neck just a few moments ago were now a few inches away from my face.

"What – what's that for?" I asked, dubious.

"What do you think?" he snapped.

"Oh," I said. "I – uhm – uh – thank you?" I took the scarf from his hands.

"Can't have my Golden Snitch getting sick, can't I?"

My head whipped around to look if anybody heard what he said, but thankfully, no one was near enough to overhear. Blaise and Theodore didn't seem to have noticed anything either.

"Right..." I released an awkward chuckle as I scratched on my eyebrow. "Uh – thank you."

I looked up at him, not really sure what to do next.

"Well? Wear it," he demanded, exasperation wrinkling his sculpted face.

"Oh... right." _Wear it_ is what I had to do next. I smiled sheepishly as I wrapped his scarf around my neck.

He walked towards the shop's window and he knocked on it rather forcefully making everyone inside stop and stare. He raised an eyebrow at Crabbe and Goyle and the two boys rushed to the counter to pay for the items they were holding.

Soon after, Crabbe and Goyle exited the shop, each carrying a pair of shopping bags.

We continued the walk to the Three Broomsticks. The boys were running and jumping around while I followed in the back lost in thought. By the time we reached the outsides of the pub, I was actually beaming with joy.

Draco Malfoy has deemed me _useful_.

While that may not be a lot, it was a step forward and I felt incredibly relieved to have finally gotten a sign that my efforts were paying off.

When we entered the pub, Blaise approached the barkeep behind the counter.

"Ten Butterbeers," he said, his tone flat.

She shook her head at his upturned nose but served him nonetheless. Daphne had just entered, her arms wrapped around the books she bought. She wore a bright smile as she skipped towards us.

"How much did you spend?" I asked, wide-eyed, grabbing a few books from her arms.

"I don't know... like twenty galleons?"

"Twenty galleons for five books?"

"I was duped, wasn't I?" She nodded indifferently. " I thought so too, but I wasn't in the mood to barter."

I quirked an incredulous brow at her. Then I remembered – she was a _Greengrass._ Twenty galleons wouldn't even scratch the surface of their wealth.

Blaise then handed both of us our Butterbeers and I scoured my pocket for coins.

"No need. My treat," Blaise said.

Even after years of being friends with these people, their wealth still shocked me at times.

Aster and Eleanor were very much well-off and they've provided for me more than sufficiently. Still, centuries of generational wealth was still a sight to behold. These people spend without even a thought and though I could probably keep up if I wanted to, I wasn't raised with the belief that our money was unlimited. Both my aunt and uncle worked hard to sustain the lifestyle that we had. Meanwhile, Daphne can choose not to work and their wealth can keep her, her children, her grandchildren, and their children's children alive. It's more or less the same for the rest of them... except for Tracey.

Draco picked the biggest table in the pub and just as we sat down, Pansy, Millie, and Tracey entered.

"You girls look beautiful," I gushed.

Pansy still had her iconic bob, but now, it fell just below her jawline. Millie's frizzy hair now looked like beautiful waves that framed her round face perfectly. Tracey's chestnut brown hair had new highlights that complimented her bronze skin and her honey brown eyes shined as she smiled at me.

"Ava, we should have gone with them." Daphne pouted.

"You're the one who dragged me to Tommes," I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

She laughed.

The three girls sat next to me and Daphne, all sporting their new hairstyles. The boys were too busy ogling their purchases to notice the interaction, much to Pansy's dismay. She made a scene of taking the seat in front of Draco, but his new Quidditch knee pads had him enamored. Blaise on the other hand had his gaze set on Pansy since she opened the door.

I caught his eye, giving him a pointed look as my lips twitched up at the sides. He leaned back, shaking his head and chuckling.

All around us, students and professors from different Houses talked and laughed with each other. Though my friends will never admit it, I knew we all felt a twinge of hurt, but it's gotten easier to ignore. We've established our place in this school ever since we got sorted into Slytherin and were met with disapproving looks and vile reactions. It was one thing for students to have acted the way they did, it was another for our professors and even our _headmaster_ to exhibit an obvious preference for the other Houses.

I took a sip from my Butterbeer, letting their noise fade into the background as Daphne started talking my ear off about all the books she has just purchased.

On the walk back to Hogwarts, with the sun setting just behind the castle, Pansy was once again glaring in my direction, but instead of my face, she had her gaze set below it.

My stomach knotted at the reminder of the black knitted scarf wrapped around my neck. It blended so well against the black cashmere jumper I wore and no one else seemed to have noticed... except for the one that _really_ shouldn't have.

My heart thundered against my chest the whole walk through.

As soon as the door of our dormitory closed shut, Pansy turned to me with a murderous glint in her eyes.

With gritted teeth, she said, "Adara... what... the... _fuck?"_

Daphne, Tracey, and Millie whipped their heads in our direction. We were all sitting on our respective beds, except for Pansy who stood by the door with her arms crossed.

"What?" I asked, trying to feign innocence. She stomped towards me, my heart matching the thuds of her footsteps.

"This!" Pansy said, grabbing the ends of Draco's scarf.

"I was cold?" I offered, but even I could hear the meekness in my voice.

"And you just had to ask _Draco_ for his scarf?" She scoffed, her eyes sharpening.

"I didn't ask. He just..." I cut myself short as soon as I realized what I was about to say.

"He just what?!"

"He–," I swallowed, "–he offered."

From my peripheral, I could see Daphne slowly approach us.

" _Wow_. He _offered._ Draco Malfoy offered to give you his scarf... Do you think I'm stupid?!"

"Not at all, but it's the truth."

"Tracey!" Pansy called. "Has Draco _ever_ offered to help any of us before?"

From her bed, Tracey looked around the room awkwardly. With wide eyes, she answered, "Uhh... no?"

Pansy's face was flushed, her hands balled into fists as she looked at me expectantly.

"Pansy, I don't know what you want me to tell you. I was just cold and he let me borrow his scarf," I explained.

I wanted to tell her the real reason. Tell her about my secret and how Draco had found out. About our nights in the Quidditch pitch. How the only reason why he cares about my well-being was because of my functionality.

I don't.

I can't.

"And why would he do that?"

I tried to answer but the words got stuck in my throat. My heart was palpitating and my hands were shaking and the room started to shrink and tilt and all I could focus on was Pansy's face and–

"You know... for someone who claims to be in love with Draco, you seem to think so little of him," Daphne retorted. She gripped my arm tightly, steadying me.

"Your _best friend_ is obviously trying to steal–"

"No one's stealing anyone, Pansy," Daphne said calmly. "Besides, he's not even _yours_."

Pansy stared at her, nonplussed, and a wave of relief flushed through me by the thought that Daphne had gotten her to stop... but then her face contorted into a grimace and she bared her teeth and–

"Well, he might as well be!" Pansy snapped. She grabbed my hair forcefully, slapping and scratching at any part of my body she could get her hands on. Then shrieks echoed through the walls of our dormitory. What happened next was a blur. The three of us became a tangled mess of squeals and grunts as Daphne tried to get the two of us away from each other.

After what felt like a second but was undoubtedly more, Pansy was ripped away from me, thrashing and struggling under Millie's grip.

"I've liked him for years!" she growled. "How dare you?! You were supposed to be my _friend!"_

Millie dragged her out of the room, Tracey muttering words of comfort as she rushed after them.

Daphne led me to my bed and we sat in silence. If it weren't for her calm hands, I wouldn't have realized I was shaking.

She gripped my arm tightly and said, "Breathe, Ava."

And so I did. I closed my eyes and I counted my breathing, just like the Mind Healer in St. Mungo's had taught me. I focused on the sound of the lake lapping on to our window, Sofia jumping onto the bed and laying down on my lap, the feel of the sheets under my thighs, the smell of Draco's cologne on his scarf, Daphne's warmth against my arm... I envisioned the beach by our house. Aster smiling at me as I ran across the sand. Eleanor setting up picnic blankets. The smell of the ocean. The feel of the sea breeze. The chirps of the seagulls.

My eyes fluttered open as my heartbeat slowed to a tolerable rate.

I looked out the window and it cast an emerald green glow onto the room, signaling that it was almost time for dinner. I excused myself to the bathroom and Daphne took Sofia off my lap, her eyes following me worriedly.

It was only when I saw myself in the mirror that the pain started sinking in. I took off my jumper and Draco's scarf. I catalogued the marks all over my arms and neck that looked a lot like the early stages of bruising. To make matters worse, a bright red mark sat on top of my cheekbones with small droplets of blood peaking through.

I sighed.

I hastily dabbed on my cheek before brushing my hands through my disheveled hair. I put the jumper back on, and with one last look in the mirror, I exited the bathroom.

Daphne still sat on my bed, holding on to Sofia.

I threw the scarf onto the foot of the bed, the muscles around my mouth straining from the scowl.

"Let's get dinner," I said, my tone flat and my eyes vacant.

Daphne gently placed Sofia on the floor before standing up.

"Are you sure? I could just sneak food out for–"

"I'm not giving her the satisfaction."

"Ava..."

I pursed my lips tightly. "I'm okay, I swear."

We walked up to the Great Hall in silence. As we neared our table, a heavy silence welcomed us. Between Tracey and Millie, Pansy sat with unruly hair and a scowl that matched mine. She refused to look up from her plate even when the boys stared at me with their mouths agape. I, quite obviously, was in a worse state than her but I refused to cower.

Blaise cleared his throat awkwardly, their eyes snapping back down to their plates.

"I'm guessing you wouldn't tell us what happened either?" Crabbe asked.

Daphne glared at him.

I ignored everyone's stares as I filled up my plate. A silver lining: they served roast beef and mashed potatoes.

Immediately after eating, I stood up without a word and I walked down the cold and empty dungeons and up the girl's dormitory. I plopped down on my bed, planning only to rest for a few hours before Draco's Quidditch practice, but without my consent, I started drifting off to sleep.


	7. Burning Embers

The sound of Sofia's purrs near my left ear caused my eyes to flutter open. She laid on my pillow, cuddling up to the top of my head.

Heavy and even breathing filled the dark room. I turned to face the clock by my nightstand and–

I shot straight up from bed. It was 1 AM and I was an hour late for Draco's practice. In a panic, I grabbed his scarf and my wand from my trunk and I silently rushed out of the dorm and out of the dungeons.

I ran up the stone staircase, skipping a step each, pushing past the dungeon doors and onto the Entrance Hall.

I nearly forgot I could fly when one of the paintings started chastising me.

The sound of my shoes squeaking against the cobblestone echoed throughout the entrance hall.

I ran to an empty classroom before pointing my wand to my heart and whispering, " _amato_ _animo_ _animato_ _animagus_."

I flew out of the castle and over the Quidditch pitch, dreading Draco's complaints.

After a few moments of circling the field, I was almost sure he wasn't there until I spotted a hooded figure on one of the spectator stands. I glided to where Draco sat and I turned back to human as soon as my crows hit the bench, making him jump in surprise.

"I told you not to do that!"

"Sorry!" I flinched. "Sorry... I was late. I fell asleep."

He took a deep breath as he shook his head.

"I wasn't expecting you to come," he said much more calmly as he looked out onto the field.

"Oh."

"What happened?"

"I fell asleep," I said, faking an apologetic smile. "I really am sorry for–"

"No," he said, turning to me and pointing at the mark on my cheek. "What happened?"

I swallowed thickly, contemplating whether or not to tell him.

I decided I couldn't embarrass Pansy like that.

"Oh. Uh – it's a girl thing." I chuckled, scratching the itch on my left brow. "You wouldn't want to know."

He narrowed his eyes.

Before he could say anything more, I plastered on a smile. "Let's practice?"

"No. I'm done for tonight. You can just – go back to bed or something."

I wracked my brain for reasons to stay. The progress I've made in the past few weeks were a failure by my standards, even after all the margin for errors I gave myself since I _was_ dealing with Draco Malfoy _._ In spite of the confirmation that I was deemed useful, I needed more for the sake of my peace of mind.

"Can I – stay?" I asked hesitantly. "If you don't mind."

He shifted forward on his seat. "Do whatever you want."

I unwrapped his scarf from my neck. "Thank you again for lending me your scarf. That was very _considerate_ of you."

He grabbed it from my hand without a word.

I was just about to strike up a conversation about our trip to Hogsmeade today when he asked, "Is it me?"

I tilted my head in confusion. "Is what you?"

"Is it because of me?" He looked me straight in the eye, gesturing from my face to my arms.

My eyebrow itched. "Why would it be because of you?"

"I'm not dense. I know Pansy has fancied me since we were little."

"Oh." I chuckled again. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Just answer my question." His voice was commanding and I knew then that he would not accept an answer that was against the truth he already believed to be.

I decided then to simply make the most out of the situation.

I looked down at the ground, forcing timidness in my demeanor. "It's alright," I said meekly. "She doesn't know about all of this. She assumed I was trying to ' _steal'_ you."

He sighed, brushing through his hair in frustration. "She doesn't need to know. She had no right – I'll talk to her."

I forced myself to keep a straight face, biting back the smirk that threatened to appear.

"Thank you," I said, looking up at him through my lashes. "But it's alright. There's really nothing either of us could say without exposing my secret."

He scanned my face. "Why don't you just – register? Save yourself from all this trouble."

"Oh..." I hummed in thought, pretending to hesitate. I realized this was my opportunity to initiate vulnerability, and I'll be damned if I didn't take it. "My uncle–"

"Aster Adara, right?"

"That's the one," I said. "Well, he was also unregistered so I just – I don't know. He said it was just-in-case something happened or something. I'm not really sure what he thinks would happen to me but I–"

"You do realize you just told me something that could get your uncle in Azkaban... Do you really trust me this much?" Draco smirked.

I chuckled. "Well, my uncle is dead so... if you want to inform the Ministry, be my guest," I joked.

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot," he said, his face turning solemn.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

" _That,"_ I said, gesturing to his face. "I just got you to smile. You don't have to look sad about my uncle, you know."

"You were trying to make me smile?" And there it was again. That _stupid_ smug smirk of his.

Fighting back an eye-roll, I gave him what he obviously wanted: banter.

I laughed. "Well – yeah, but I always fail. It always comes out lopsided. Makes you look really–," I looked up in thought, "–conceited."

He broke out into a grin, shaking his head amusedly. "Wow. When did Ava Adara grow a pair? You dare talk back to me now, huh? Weren't you just crying and begging me not to tell anyone your secret?"

I bit my lower lip to keep myself from smiling. "Weren't you just about to run off and be my knight-in-shining-armor? ' _She had no right. I'll talk to her,'_ " I mocked.

He burst out laughing.

"Can't let my Golden Snitch get hurt, can I? I gave you my scarf so you wouldn't get sick only for someone else to _touch_ you? Only I could do that." His tone was suddenly laced with allure and it made blood rush to my cheeks.

I tried to think of a comeback, but my mind came up blank.

I squirmed under his gaze.

"Is that a blush that I see?" he teased, shifting so that he was straddling the bench to face me. "Are you sure you don't have a crush on me?"

I felt the heat rise up to my temples. I laughed awkwardly. "I'm sure, Draco."

He leaned forward, smirking. Then his fingers found a strand of my hair, pushing it back behind my ear.

It made my breath hitch.

"And now?" he asked, his breath ghosting against the exposed skin of my shoulder.

I forced a nonchalant shrug. "I'm still sure–"

Then his hand was on my waist, pulling me toward him. His thumb was rubbing circles on the silk fabric just above my hips and–

I stood up abruptly.

He laughed haughtily. "I was just joking. Relax."

I fought back the urge to punch him on the nose.

"No – but seriously. Pansy shouldn't have done that. The Gryffindor match is in a month and I can't have you be–"

"I'm fine, Draco," I said, plastering on a reassuring smile. I straightened my nightgown with the palm of my hand, breathing deeply to steady my pulse. "I'll still be able to practice with you. Don't worry."

"Just make sure none of it becomes a problem, alright?" he said. " _Nothing_ can interfere with my training. Do you understand?"

I nodded, internally screaming at him for talking to me like a child.

"Or else I might just have to send you to Azkaban after all," he said, smirking.

My heart went cold.

I staggered backward, the bottom of my spine hitting the railing. The air got stuck in my throat, my fingers twitching with panic. I gripped the wood behind me as I took a shuddering breath.

His eyes went wide. "I'm kidding."

My jaw trembled. It was as though I was on a precipice, one wrong move and I would topple over. I blinked back the tears that threatened to emerge.

He stood up. "Adara... I'm not going to send you to Azkaban," he said firmly, grabbing my shoulders.

I took deep breaths, letting the weight of his hands around my shoulders anchor me.

I nodded.

He stared at me, scanning my face. Then he brought his hands back to himself.

"I'm going back. You?" he said, his tone stiff.

"Oh." I blinked, gulping in air. "I'll go with you."

We walked in silence towards the castle, my mind reeling. My breathing was ragged as I tried to come to terms with his comments.

He was kidding. I repeated this over and over again until I believed it.

But was he?

Any semblance of progress was swept away by the hurricane that was his words. It was a reminder not to underestimate him.

Inconsiderate. Disrespectful. Cruel.

I could not let myself forget.

"You go in first?" I asked when we reached the outside of the castle doors.

"No need. Father already talked to Umbridge. Just do your bird thing," he said, waving me away.

I flew into the school and below me, Draco was walking as if he owned the place, not even bothering with hiding. He said before that he used to sneak out all the time and that he knew the ins and outs of this school, but I guess his father's _talk_ with the High Inquisitor gave him the assurance he needed.

"Good night, Draco," I said, back in the common room. Just like every other night, he did not reciprocate.

Once in my room, I fell asleep almost as soon as I laid down.

The rest of the weekend was spent finishing whatever little homework I had left. Pansy refused to even look in my direction, which was completely fine with me. I was very much enjoying not talking to her. Not that there was a lot of chatting between us before the fight anyway.

The entire Sunday, Daphne kept glancing at me as if she was about to start saying something but was constantly choosing not to. By afternoon, the two of us sat in the Middle Courtyard. She glanced up from her book, giving me the exact same look.

I dropped my quill on my lap in exasperation. "Just get on with it," I grumbled.

She shut the book close as she took a deep breath. "Ava... you and Malfoy?"

"What about us?" I feigned oblivion.

"Is there something going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are the two of you... seeing each other?"

I looked at her incredulously. "Do you seriously believe what Pansy said? I'm not–"

"No it's not that. It's – his scarf? Why were you wearing it?"

I frowned. "Like I said... I was cold."

She pursed her lips. "Alright but Transfiguration? Breakfast? You even sit next to him in the common room sometimes. The two of you keep looking at each other as if you share an inside joke. It's really weird."

I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Does everyone think that?" I asked.

"Not really, no... but after what happened with Pansy, I'm pretty sure they have their theories."

"Oh... it's not like that at all," I said. "I guess we're just starting to become friends?"

"But why? Didn't you hate him before this year?"

"I didn't hate him. I didn't particularly like him, but I don't know... He's really not _that_ bad, I guess," I lied again.

"But... do you like him? Or does he like you?"

"What? No... _Never_ ," I said, and I chastised myself at how defensive I sounded.

"Are you sure?" Her brows were furrowed, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. I'm sure I don't like Draco Malfoy."

♰

I didn't bother waking up early on Monday. After everything that had happened, I reckoned I deserved to sleep in for at least a day.

Daphne and I headed downstairs from our dormitory, talking about her conversation with Millie and Tracey. Despite her doubts, she took it upon herself to clear my name and made sure none of them spread malicious rumors about the incident. She was certain Pansy wasn't going to say anything to anyone, but the two witnesses, not so much. Thankfully, both Tracey and Millie didn't think much of me wearing Draco's scarf. It was off – _sure_ – but they agreed Pansy jumped to conclusions.

Another thing to be grateful for was that no one was brave enough to question Draco about _me._

As soon as we stepped foot in the common room, we noticed a crowd had gathered in front of the Slytherin noticeboard.

"Ava! Daphne!" Tracey bounced towards us.

"What's happening?" Daphne asked.

"Umbridge disbanded student groups. Can you believe it?"

"What? Why would she do that?" I asked.

"I have no clue... but we can ask permission to re-form, so there's that," Tracey added.

"Seems tedious, doesn't it? I wonder what happened," Daphne said.

"I bet my wand it had something to do with Potter and his minions," I said, rolling my eyes.

The two girls shook their heads disapprovingly.

"Tracey!" I heard a piercing voice from across the room. Pansy had her arms crossed as she glared at the doe-eyed girl in front of us.

Tracey looked at me with a wan smile before waving. "Sorry, Ava," she said as she trudged back to where Pansy and Millie stood. Millie had a small pout on her face and she gave us a small wave before the three girls left the common room.

"Wonder how long Pansy's going to keep this up," Daphne mumbled.

I'm not sure if I just started noticing it or if Pansy just started to become more desperate for Draco's attention this week. Every single joke of his received fits of laughter so shrill that even Draco flinches in shock. What's worse was that he kept sending me amused looks whenever Pansy did something mildly embarrassing in front of him.

Part of me felt guilty. I know now what it must look like from the outside, but no matter how much I wanted to explain, I had no choice.

We didn't have a class for our first period so we got to Professor Snape's classroom much earlier than the Gryffindors. We were all clustered together by the door and the rest of them were chatting and laughing while I did my advance reading for Potions. It was only when Millie asked Draco about Quidditch and Umbridge that I tuned into their conversation.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straight away, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

I saw his eyes fleet by the staircase where Potter and his friends stood.

"I mean," Draco said much louder, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... And as for Potter... My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic..."

Draco distorted his face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling back. The boys let loose grunts of laughter and Pansy delivered another shriek of glee. Tracey and Millie laughed uncomfortably, and Daphne turned away to wrinkle her nose in disdain. I raised the book I was reading up to my face to hide my disappointment.

Suddenly, a yell was heard from across the corridor.

"Neville, no!"

I looked up to see Potter grabbing the back of Neville Longbottom's robes. The stout boy wriggled from Potter's grasp as he tried desperately to attack Draco. He was wide-eyed and everyone else on our side mirrored his look.

"Help me!" Potter yelled at Ron as he dragged Longbottom away from us.

Crabbe and Goyle stood tall in front of Draco, ready for a fight.

The Gryffindors managed to drag Longbottom back to their side of the corridor, the poor boy panting and sputtering incomprehensible words.

Next to me, the dungeon door opened and Professor Snape appeared.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

Daphne and I shared a look teetering between bewildered and amused as we entered Snape's classroom.

"A bunch of nutters, I'm telling you," Draco said to no one in particular, shaking his head with contempt.

Daphne and I took our seats near the front of the class.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Daphne chuckled.

"No idea," I laughed, and with a roll of my eyes, I muttered, "Boys..."

Snape closed the dungeon door and the room fell silent immediately.

"You will notice that we have a guest with us today," Professor Snape said. I turned my head to where he was gesturing and there sat Umbridge with a clipboard on her knee.

I sighed in exasperation.

Here we go again.

After lunch, we had Divination and for the first time in a very long time, Daphne and I actually paid attention, not because the lesson or activity was helpful nor was it interesting, but because of Professor Trelawney's performance _._ The woman was in tears and was absolutely dramatic about it. Something about Umbridge and probation?

After, we had Defense Against the Dark Arts, and as usual: "Wands away," and "There will be no need to talk."

After dinner, we spent the rest of the night in the common room doing homework. No – actually – I did homework, they copied and rephrased. By midnight, the common room was almost empty save for a couple of seventh year students who were buried deep in homework.

I sat alone by the fireplace with a quill in my hand and a piece of parchment on the table in front of me. Daphne and the rest have retreated back into their respective dormitories and I stayed behind to write a letter to Eleanor.

_ Dear Eleanor, _

_ I'm sorry it took me this long to write back. The professors are drowning us in homework and I'm struggling to stay afloat, but other than that, I'm doing well. _

_ I'm glad to hear you and Aunt Lara are having fun. I'm a tad bit sad I won't get to go home for Christmas but I understand wholeheartedly. You deserve a vacation. _

_ Safe travels and I hope you enjoy Europe! Make sure to buy me souvenirs :) _

_ Only joking! Make sure you come home safe. That's truly all I want. _

_ Sending you all my love. _

_ Ava _

Just as I was about to fold the parchment, a voice from behind startled me.

"Where were you?"

I turned my head to see Draco standing behind the sofa, nose upturned and arms crossed.

I tilted my head in confusion.

"When?"

"Breakfast," he answered flatly as he lept over the back of the sofa to sit next to me.

He raised his eyebrows when I didn't answer immediately.

"Oh," I said, snapping out of it. "Uh – I slept in."

"You didn't eat?"

"No, I did. But you weren't there anymore. Sorry, I didn't think you would mind."

"I don't," he said, looking away, "but the sandwiches were too far."

"What?"

"No one was there to reach it for me."

It took a while for what he said to sink in, and when it did, I brought a hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh.

He glared at me in retaliation. I cleared my throat.

"Sorry–," I chuckled, "–I'll be there tomorrow. I promise."

He caught my eye at the last sentence and once again, my smile was met with a scowl.

"Why are you still awake?" I asked.

"I could ask you the exact thing," he answered, staring into the fireplace.

"I wrote my aunt a letter. You?"

"I should write to my mother," he muttered absentmindedly.

I handed him my quill and roll of parchment, and he stared at my outstretched hand with a puzzled look on his face before grabbing the items.

He plopped down onto the floor and opened the roll of parchment onto the table in front of us. The amber glow of the fireplace contrasted the emerald streams of moonlight from the window and it made his hair look much less white than it actually was. His head hung low as he wrote on the paper and from this angle, he reminded me of Aster and the countless nights I spent with him and Eleanor by the fireplace. We would listen to Muggle music and they would dance with each other as if it were their first date. They would tell me all about their youth and all the trouble they got into, and Eleanor would roll her eyes when Aster would brag about all of the pranks he played on his classmates.

"I miss my uncle," I blurted out before I had the chance to think. Draco turned to me, looking at me blankly. At that moment, I was glad he at least did not respond with a snide remark.

"You remind me of him. Well, not really, I guess, just the hair – kind of."

He was still staring at me with a vacant expression on his face, his quill paused mid-stroke. I averted my eyes.

"I heard," Draco said slowly, "he was a good man."

Despite my efforts to look at something else, my eyes couldn't help but settle on him.

"My parents – they're very–," he looked up in thought, "–particular... about the people they respect but even from them, I've heard no qualms against Aster Adara."

"That's – very kind of them," I said, forcing a smile.

He looked at me intently and I could swear there was a hint of sympathy somewhere in there but it went away as soon as it came, and he went back to writing his letter.

I gazed into the fire, lost in thought, so I hadn't realized that he finished writing until I felt him sit back down on the sofa. He looked at me, his brows furrowed in pity.

I hadn't intended to use my uncle's death as a means to an end, but if it'll give Draco another reason to keep me out of Azkaban, I might as well milk the situation I've already put myself in.

"He passed away last December. Heart attack." I chuckled.

"Why is that funny?"

"It's ironic, don't you think? After the life that he's had, being an Auror and all that, he passed away from something so... human. I mean, he was healthy... and strong... and I don't understand how–" I stopped myself when I felt my voice go up a couple of notes.

I looked down on my lap, taking a deep breath.

He said nothing. We fell into a comfortable silence. I don't know how long we sat there, simply watching the burning embers of the fireplace.

It was only when I heard him stifle a yawn that I was brought out of my reverie. The common room was now empty and all the candles had been blown out and our only source of light was from the dying fire in front of us. Next to me, Draco had his right elbow propped up on the armrest on his side, his head resting on his hand. His eyelids were drooping and his shoulders were unusually slumped.

"Let's get to bed?" I offered.

He turned to look at me and I gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded, and we made our way to our respective doors.

"Good night, Draco."

_"Good night."_


	8. With A Mask

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Detach – Peter Sandberg_

Potter was up to something. I was certain of it, I just didn't know what. In the Great Hall, I've been watching whispers jump from table to table, never quite reaching Slytherin's. They gave each other knowing looks, as if there were a secret the entire school knew except for us. It made my blood boil. To top it all off, mother and father have been pestering me non-stop about _famous Harry Potter_. Every time I wrote them a letter, they would half-heartedly gloss over my questions and stories before asking me for updates about that stupid _Saint Potter._

" _What are your classmates saying about the boy?"_

_"Has Dumbledore said anything new?"_

_"Keep a close eye on Potter for us."_

_For fuck's sake._ That's all I ever hear nowadays. _Potter, Potter, Potter._ I'm sick of it.

Stupid Potter and his filthy minions have been a thorn in my family's life ever since I've met him, and possibly even before. The relief I felt earlier this year when I thought he had been expelled was unparalleled. I actually thought we were finally getting the chance to live like normal students, but then news started rolling around about the results of his trial with the Ministry, and all remnants of relief vanished. Another year with _The Boy Who Lived._

Father had been hoping he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty, drawling on and on about some _mission_ he was tasked to do. His disappointment echoed throughout our home when he had found out that Potter had been acquitted. Naturally, I scrambled to be of help, but much to my dismay, mother refused to let me... Said I was just a boy. _Boy._ Harry Potter's also just a " _boy",_ yet they have no problem regarding him as if he were a threat.

I am as much of a threat as Potter is. _They'll see._

I gripped my broomstick tightly.

"Is something wrong?" Ava asked.

It was a quarter past midnight, and we've just arrived in the Quidditch pitch for one of our weekly practice sessions. There were only two weeks left before the match against Gryffindor and I've coerced her into adding another day of practice on top of the two-nights-a-week agreement. The fact that it had been raining incessantly did not exactly put the odds in my favor. The scheduled Quidditch practices with the team were constantly being rearranged, much to my frustration.

"It's none of your business," I snapped, clenching my jaw to stop the stream of complaints threatening to flow off my lips.

"Oh," she said flatly, but sooner than I could react, she picked herself back up and chimed, "Okay! Well, come on then."

My glare followed her beaming figure until she turned into a small ball of feathers floating in the air. I picked up my broom and followed suit.

For fifteen minutes or so, Ava and I practiced as usual. She flew unbelievably fast and was fairly small for a dove. With the moon being our only source of light, it was difficult making out her form. I circled the area multiple times, but to no avail.

I brushed through my hair in frustration, on the verge of calling off the practice, when I saw a flash of white near one of the spectator stands. I raced to where I last saw her, extending my arm in an attempt to reach the white dove, but then, just as I was about to tap on its head, she flew away.

I struck the pole of my broomstick with my fist.

" _Fucking_ hell," I muttered under my breath.

I descended to the ground, letting my broomstick fall as I walked away.

"Draco?" I heard Ava call a few seconds later.

I knew I shouldn't be mad at her. I asked her to do this. I explicitly asked her to make it as hard for me as possible. I attempted to keep my mouth shut before I could say anything I might regret, but–

"Fuck off, Adara," I exclaimed with gritted teeth.

Unfazed, she raced after me with a worried look on her face.

"Draco, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

I whipped my head to glare at her.

Why was she always so _goddamn_ nice? Her relentless disposition to be all _sunshine_ and _rainbows_ infuriated me to no end. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand _her._

I instinctively sharpened my glare and she cowered under my gaze.

 _You need her for practice – you need her for practice – you need her for practice,_ I repeated to myself over and over again.

An undeniable frustration surged through me. I wanted to scream. Yell at her for her existence. For her _stupid,_ unceasing smile.

I don't.

I can't.

I needed to win. She was my best shot.

I started towards the exit of the Quidditch pitch, but once again, she chased after me.

Before she could say another word, I turned on my heel. The abruptness of it all caused her to jolt backward, almost tripping over her own feet.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" I snapped.

Her expression wobbled from worry to incredulity, and then back to worry. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"You know, if you weren't a Slytherin, people would have walked all over you," I jeered.

She frowned.

"No, actually. People already walk all over you. You let Pansy get away with everything, everyone cheats off of your work, people are literally leaching off you and you're either too naive to notice or too weak to stand up for yourself."

"I'm not naive," she said, her voice faltering, "and I'm not weak either. I help because I want to. I don't mind hel–"

I scoffed. "Listen to the way you talk. How can you stand there and tell me you're not weak when you can't even get mad at me right now!"

She flinched at my words, dropping her gaze. "Don't yell at me," she whispered.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Is that all you have to say? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? I'm yelling at you," I took a step forward. "What the _fuck_ are you going to do about it?"

She was staring at the grass next to me with a blank expression on her face, her signature smile nowhere to be seen.

"Fucking _push-over,_ god. How much of an idiot do you have to be to not see it?"

She said nothing.

Rage gripped my throat at her silence.

"You're really not going to say anything?" I took another step forward, laughing coldly.

Her eyes snapped up to me. "Do you want me to be mad at you?"

"Are you daft? Who asks that?"

Her face contorted into a snarl.

"Here you go then! I'm mad at you," she snapped. "I've been mad at you since you made me fall from ten feet up the ground–," she threw her hands up in exasperation, "–and you haven't even apologized! For days, I had to walk with a limp and you didn't even care. And to add insult to injury, you just _had_ to torment me about it. _Every! Single! Day!_ "

"Then why in the _bleeding_ helldidn't you say anything?!"

"Oh my god! You really don't get it, don't you?"

"No, I really don't."

"I'm not at liberty to get mad at people like you, Draco! That's the thing!"

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because unlike you–," her voice cracked, tears welling up in her eyes, "–I have no father to run to when people cross me." She gasped, almost as if she couldn't believe her own words. "The closest I've ever had to a father is _dead_. And sure, Adara is a respected family name, but it's not even _truly_ mine–," her lips quivered, "–yet it's the _only_ thing keeping people like _you_ from hurting me. Because let's be honest, Draco... if I hadn't been an Adara... if I hadn't been Slytherin... you would've treated me the same way you treated the other orphans in this school."

I staggered.

My anger melted with each word she said. I wanted to say something – a joke, a remark, anything, but I couldn't.

 _'No, I wouldn't have',_ I wanted to say, but I knew that was a lie.

"You don't know how anxious I've felt the past couple of weeks," she said, looking at me accusingly.

At this point, she stopped trying to hold back her tears. She slumped down on the grass, not even caring if mud got onto her nightgown. Her chest heaved, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly, as she wiped endlessly on her cheeks and on the bottom of her nose. She brought shaky hands to cover her face, and she looked utterly miserable, I had to look away.

I stood still as I waited for her to calm down.

After a few moments, her anger seemed to have faded but the tears continued their stream down her face.

She wiped hastily across her face, a look of panic flashing across her face. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and–

"I'm sorry. I'm not usually this emotional," she said with a small chuckle.

Social conduct dictates that I should be comforting her, and I knew my mother would berate me if she found out that all those years of etiquette lessons bore no fruits, but I honestly didn't have the slightest idea how.

 _No,_ that was a lie. I did, but all of those that sprung to mind would have made me – and her – uncomfortable.

I settled for simply sitting next to her.

"You know, Daphne's never even seen me cry before," she added after a few moments of silence, timidly playing with her thumb. "But then again, she's also never been a threat to my freedom so..."

We froze at the same time.

It's not as if I haven't thought about using her secret against her. I was willing if I needed to. And I've been expecting to need to for quite some time... but I haven't. Every time I needed something from her, she was already offering before I could even ask. Before I could even coax it out of her. Before I could even think of a way to exploit her. To the point that I've forgotten I even had leverage.

"But I've told you... you didn't have to worry about that," I said, not entirely sure if it was still a lie.

She sighed, as though in surrender.

"Did you expect me to just believe you? You could've easily just changed your mind."

"Is that why you did all this?" I gestured towards the space around us.

Sniffling, she nodded her head slowly as she wiped away the streaks of tears on her face.

"So you used me," I joked dryly.

She looked at me as if I've grown antlers on my head. "Used you? _I,"_ she said, pointing to her chest, "used _you?"_

"I'm joking."

She stared at me, unblinking.

With a gentle shake of her head, her smile came back and for some reason I cannot explain, I felt relieved.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to cry." She laughed.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," I replied curtly.

She narrowed her glossy eyes at me.

"So you taunted me... so that I wouldn't cry?" There was a teasing – almost amused – edge to her voice and I was wonderstruck at how quickly she ricocheted from distress to cheerfulness.

"I wanted you to get mad. I didn't expect you to... _you know_."

She laughed blithely.

"I'm sorry," I whispered suddenly, half-hoping she wouldn't hear, but by the look on her face, she did.

She sat there, wide-eyed, her lips parted.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"You're – apologizing?"

"I'm taking it back," I sneered.

She laughed. "Well–," she shrugged, "–I still forgive you."

I grabbed a stone from the grass, rotating it over and over on my hand.

With a nod and a chuckle, she quipped, "Let's stop this nonsense. Come on – you have to practice."

She started to lift herself up from the grass.

"You don't have to keep on doing that," I said. "And I'll pay you for your services."

"What?" She was frozen in an awkward squat, half her body still sitting, the other knee propped up.

"You don't have to act like we're friends."

She frowned, sitting back down. "I'm not acting–"

"Don't lie."

She swallowed. "I – I'm not–"

"I'll pay you," I insisted.

"I don't want you to."

"Can you just stop being so stubborn and let me pay you? You know, normally, people are enthusiastic when presented with money."

"But I don't need your money," she argued, leaning back.

"Well, how do you suggest I repay you then?" The aggravation was significantly peeking through my demeanor the more she refused my offer.

"Why do you need to repay me? I'm fine with–"

"Since you're not doing it out of friendship, then that would mean I'd be in debt to you, doesn't it?"

She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, lost in thought.

Then she caught my eye.

"But what if I am? Doing it out of friendship?"

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "I thought you hated me?"

"I did," she said, nodding once. "And you can be quite an annoying git..."

I glared at her instinctively.

I was already composing an insulting remark in my head when she added, "But you're also very funny... and you make me laugh... quite a lot." Her nose scrunched up as she gave me a bright smile.

I stared at her vacantly.

She was so... _nice._ Too nice, if you ask me. I've been so used to fighting fire with fire, but with her, it seemed futile. I've seen her with Pansy, and that girl can be really foul, but Ava just ignores it. Looking back, the only time I've ever seen her unsettled is... because of me. And even then, her anger comes and goes quicker than you can say Merlin's beard.

I couldn't understand how freely she laughed and how unwaveringly kind she was. I've watched her attempts at talking to Nott and at that time I snickered at how blatantly her efforts were rejected... but then she kept on trying. I've seen her get leached by our friends for homework or for help, yet she keeps on giving without the expectation of anything in return. And her _smile_. Her _damned_ smile. She offered a smile to anyone and everyone, be it sheepishly, apologetically, or brightly. For years, every time I would round up a corner or enter a room, as long as our eyes met, the corners of her mouth would automatically turn up. Most days, I ignored it. Other times, I'd even respond with a scowl, yet she never stopped.

It infuriated me how easy it was to take advantage of her. She was too timid, too gentle, too soft, and a tiny part of me whispered to stretch her taut to see how far she can go before she breaks in half... but there was a louder whisper, a more certain whisper, commanding me to shield her away from whatever darkness that lies in wait.

I extinguished both urges before either flame could burn brighter.

After a moment of silence, Ava added, "The only other people who have made me laugh as much as you have were my uncle and–"

She stopped suddenly. She looked around the darkness and she scratched on her right eyebrow the way she usually did whenever someone made her feel awkward.

"And?"

"You wouldn't like my answer," she smiled sheepishly.

"Just get on with it."

"Fred and George," she muttered.

"Ah... the blood traitors."

"I used to be friends with them, you know. Before I started in Hogwarts."

"Well, at least you've got the sense to squash that _friendship_ before their stink passed on to you."

"Right..." She chuckled awkwardly.

"What happened?"

She looked at me, tilting her head and furrowing her brows, as if I were Professor Binns teaching a lesson she couldn't quite grasp.

"What?" I asked, raising my brows.

"Oh – uhm... nothing," she stuttered, bringing her finger to scratch on her eyebrow once again. "Uh – They boo-ed when I got sorted." She chuckled. "In hindsight, it was all just probably in good fun... but I was a sensitive 11-year-old so I avoided them for the rest of the year, and at some point, they just stopped trying to talk to me."

She looked up at the night sky, her cardigan falling off her shoulders.

I noticed a frayed almost-circular mark on her upper chest that was slightly darker than her tan skin. _A birthmark?_ Then my eyes trailed down to the valley between the curves of her–

I quickly averted my eyes.

"You're better off without them anyway," I replied, focusing once more on the stone on my hand.

"Right," she said. "Besides, everyone would have hated me if I were associating with Gryffindors so it all worked out for the best, I guess."

It was my turn to look up at the sky. I studied the black of the night speckled with various sizes of white dots, and I wondered where my namesake constellation was.

"Draco," Ava said, uncertain. "Whatever it is... that happened, and I know you don't want to tell me... but if I'm wrong, I hope you know I'm here to listen."

"Well, you're right. I don't."

I heard her sigh. I turned my head to face her, and I caught a glance at the exact moment she shifted her expression from disappointment to faux merriment.

"Alright. Do you want to practice now?" she said, smiling.

"Now, see... why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Something's quite obviously bothering you, but you keep on pretending like there's not."

"Nothing's bothering m–"

"Don't lie."

Her face turned solemn.

She brought her knees to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Force of habit?" Ava offered lamely.

"That's a pathetic excuse."

She peered at me from underneath her eyelashes, and I stared back at my reflection in the black of her eyes. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and I couldn't tell if it was confusion or understanding that I saw, but I felt undisguised under her gaze.

Her next words reverberated around my brain for days to come.

"Don't pretend like I'm the only one with a mask, Draco."

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Only – RY X_


	9. Hospital Wing

Today was the match against Gryffindor and for the weeks leading up to it, Draco had demanded that I practiced with him more and more. Two nights a week has turned into five days a week, and as exhausted as I was, his nerves were almost palpable and I just couldn't say no. And it wasn't just him. The tension between the houses had grown so intense, even the Heads of House have failed to conceal their determination to win. Professor Snape has been booking the Quidditch pitch so often, the boys had trouble keeping up with homework. Most days, I leave my research outlines with Theo so Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco could write their essays with ease after their practice.

Pansy still hasn't talked directly to me, but we've somehow been communicating through Daphne. Under Draco's direction, we've been working on a chant against Gryffindor, specifically Ron Weasley. As unwilling as Daphne and I were to participate, it was two against the entirety of Slytherin house, and our sympathy towards the red-head Keeper was not worth the public persecution. Tracey and Millie have also been filling us up on all the rumors circulating about how Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, hexed a Gryffindor player, Alicia Spinnet, who was rushed to the hospital wing because her eyebrows had grown so long, it obstructed her mouth. On top of all that, every time Ron came near our group, Draco would imitate dropping the Quaffle, much to Weasley's embarrassment.

The rain-filled days of October had evaporated and were replaced with the November snow. It had gotten much colder and I've swapped my chemises and cashmere jumpers for silk pajamas and fur-lined coats. Still, midnights in the Quidditch pitch were barely tolerable and if I hadn't spent most of the hours as a bird, I would have probably gotten sick.

It was astonishing how Draco could endure the cold just to get extra hours of practice. I used to believe the rumors that circulated back in our second year about how Draco bought his way into the team, but seeing how skilled he was and how much hard work he's put in, I know now that I judged him too quickly. A small part of me wanted to go around the school to clear his name, wanted to stand in front of Granger and tell her she was wrong about him. And if I weren't so affronted by the absurdity of it all, maybe I would have.

Next to me, Draco ate his breakfast much more quietly than he used to. Most days, he could at least let out a couple of insulting jokes with Crabbe and Goyle, much to my disdain, but today was different. He wasn't just sleepy. He was nervous. But he was doing an amazing job at concealing it. The two boys next to him, not so much.

In front of us, a group of boys sat down, all wearing silver badges in the shape of a crown with the words 'WEASLEY IS OUR KING' plastered on top.

"This is genius, Malfoy," Graham Montague, the Slytherin captain said, pointing at the badge.

Suddenly, a curtain of arrogance swept away all hints of nervousness from Draco's face.

"We'll crush Gryffindor later, alright?" Cassius Warrington said rather loudly, punching the palm of his hand and flexing his arms.

From the entrance, Pansy and the girls bounced up to the table, all wearing silver and green. Daphne sat next to me, eyeing me and Draco, before handing me my Slytherin scarf and silver crown badge. I hastily put them on to match my housemates, but instead of pinning the badge, I dropped it onto the pocket of my trousers.

"Pansy wanted us to get breakfast earlier so she could teach the others the song," Daphne said.

Soon enough, our table was filled and everyone was chatting animatedly. The Slytherin Quidditch team clustered together on our side of the table so Daphne and I slipped out of our seats and onto the ones next to Tracey.

Just as we sat back down, our table roared with laughter. I followed everyone's gaze onto the entrance of the Great Hall where Potter and Ron stood. They waved to Ron in mock excitement, and guilt flooded through me. I haven't talked to any of the Weasleys in years, but the history was not lost on me. As much as I wanted Slytherin to win, I couldn't bring myself to wish ill on the opposing side, especially since Fred and George were included.

I watched Potter drag Ron to the Gryffindor table where Granger sat, glaring at us.

Draco and his teammates stood up from their seats, bellowing with grunts of laughter as they made their way towards the door, but before they left, Draco searched the expanse of our table frantically, and when I caught his eye, I gave him the brightest smile I could muster.

 _You got this_.

Almost as if he understood, he responded with the tiniest of smiles and a small nod before following his team.

After finishing our breakfast, we followed the flow of the crowd outside the castle and was met with a windless cold and relatively clear skies. Daphne and I huddled together and I thanked her again for bringing my scarf. In front of us, Pansy was leading the crowd through the 'Weasley Is Our King' chant.

The Quidditch pitch looked vibrant and colorful, and unlike the night before, the spectator stands were dressed with tents corresponding to our houses. We skipped towards our seats, and all around us, people were screaming, "Weasley cannot save a thing, he cannot block a single ring!"

We sat in the front of the crowd, waiting for the rest of the seats to be filled up. Below us, the two captains, Graham Montague and Angelina Johnson shook each other's hands. Crabbe and Goyle lurked behind the captain, and on their left stood Draco, smirking at Potter and pointing to his badge. Blaise stood on the other side, sneering at the opposing team.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the balls were released. All the players shot upward but my eyes were set on Draco. My heart was beating rapidly, the nerves settling in.

Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the pitch.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me –"

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall yelled.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest – and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's – ouch – been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and – nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away–"

Lee Jordan's commentary drowned out the singing but from where I was sitting, I could hear it loud and clear.

_Weasley is our King,_   
_Weasley is our King,_   
_He always lets the Quaffle in,_   
_Weasley is our King._

Pansy, Tracey, and Millie stood in front of the crowd as they led the song and cheered for the team. I sat between Daphne and Theo who were both on the edge of their seats.

"–dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Alicia – and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_   
_He cannot block a single ring,_   
_That's why Slytherins all sing:_   
_Weasley is our King_

The chant became deafening.

_Weasley was born in a bin,_   
_He always lets the Quaffle in,_   
_Weasley will make sure we win,_   
_Weasley is our King._

"– and Alicia passes back to Angelina! Come on now, Angelina – looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE – aaaah..."

Draco was circling the pitch in search of the Snitch. I stood up from my seat in an attempt to get a look at a flying golden ball.

"–and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for the goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead–"

My house sang louder and louder.

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_   
_He cannot block a single ring..._

"–so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team – come on, Ron!"

Everyone screamed beside me, even Theo stood up in excitement.

"Slytherin score! So that's ten-nil to Slytherin – bad luck, Ron..."

_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_   
_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN!_

"–and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch–..."

_WEASLEY IS OUR KING!_   
_WEASLEY IS OUR KING!_

"–and it's Warrington again who passes to Zabini, Zabini's off past Spinnet, come on now Angelina, you can take him – turns out you can't – but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean George Weasley, oh who cares, one of them anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell – er – drops it too – so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!"

_WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING!_

"–and Zabini's dodged Alicia again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"

_THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING:_   
_WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

"–and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Zabini, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina – GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Zabini has the Quaffle..."

Draco and Potter continued circling the pitch but to no avail.

"–Zabini throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Zabini – Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good – I mean bad – Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Zabini in possession again..."

_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_   
_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,_   
_WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN –_

All of sudden, Draco was racing next to Potter towards the Slytherin end of the pitch where the Golden Snitch flew. It switched directions towards the other side of the stands; the two Seekers extended their arms.

In two seconds, it was over.

My heart sank as Gryffindor screamed in approval.

Crabbe threw the Bludger he was holding and it hit Potter square in the back, making him fall flat on the grass. Johnson ran towards Harry. A few meters away from them, Draco descended to the ground, furious.

I ran down the spectator stand immediately, Pansy and Daphne and the rest following closely behind me.

As soon as my feet hit the grass, I started towards Draco, but then Daphne grabbed my arm, pulling me back to the edge where Blaise stood, watching with his arms crossed.

Potter had turned away and was walking towards his teammates when we heard Draco yell, "We wanted to write another couple of verses but we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see... we couldn't fit in useless loser either – for his father, you know..."

Potter ignored him.

"But you like the Weasley's, don't you, Potter?" Draco sneered. He gripped his broomstick tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay–"

Both Fred and George looked like they were about to pounce on Draco, but Potter grabbed George while Fred was held back by three girls from the Gryffindor team. Still, Draco didn't show signs of stopping. He was seething with anger.

"Or perhaps... you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it–"

In an instant, Potter and George were tackling Draco to the ground. There were grunts and thumps as punches were thrown around, followed by shrieks from the bystanders.

I took a sprinting step towards them but Daphne's grip on my hand tightened.

"Stop them!" I heard someone yell.

Helplessly, I watched them team up together against Draco. Blaise was running towards the scene to try and help, but then someone yelled, "IMPEDIMENTA!" and everyone near them was knocked backward by the force of the spell.

"What do you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch screamed at the two Gryffindors.

Daphne finally let me go and I ran towards Draco. He was curled up on the ground with blood all over his face, the sight making the pits of my stomach turn.

"I've never seen behavior like it – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"

I dropped to my knees next to him, frantically scanning his face. I wanted to brush away the hair that was being matted with blood but he had cuts and bruises all over and I couldn't tell which parts of his face were safe to touch and a lightness shot up through my head at the sight of open wounds and teared skin and red seeping out and–

The buzzing in my ears faded away and was replaced by the livid shrieks coming out of Pansy's mouth. Millie and Tracey were yelling for help next to her, Blaise and Theo sitting on opposite sides of Draco to help him up.

A crowd had formed around us, and Professor Snape pushed through them.

"Zabini, Nott, bring Malfoy to the hospital wing," he commanded.

The two boys took each of Draco's arms and they followed Professor Snape back into the castle. The rest of us trailed closely behind them.

The nine of us stood outside the hospital wing, awaiting permission to check up on Draco. Pansy was ballistic, swearing up and down that she'll hex the next Gryffindor she laid eyes on. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were quiet, still vexed about their loss. I had my arms wrap around myself as I paced across the corridors while Daphne stood with Theodore, Millie, and Tracey by the door.

Professor Snape exited the hospital wing with a stern look in his eyes.

"Malfoy has asked everybody to leave," he announced. "Go back to the common room. No visitors allowed as of this moment."

My shoulders slumped down in disappointment.

Back in the common room, the air was somber. Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise went to sit with their teammates while I headed straight towards the girl's dormitory. Before I could leave, I overheard Montague blaming Draco for the loss, saying he _hasn't practiced enough_ and _that's_ why we kept losing to Potter. Irritation gripped my throat like a vice and I had the thought to turn around and hex him, but before I could even ponder my choices, I felt a hand on the small of my back, and I was being led up the stairs by Daphne.

"He'll be okay, Ava," she said once we were inside the confines of our room. Millie and Tracey have disappeared somewhere with Pansy, and I was grateful for the peace and quiet that their absence brought.

"I know," I sighed. "It's just that we–," I coughed, "–he worked really hard on it. He must be really disappointed right now."

Suspicion flashed through Daphne's eyes for a second. Then her eyes darted down to the floor in resignation.

Gratitude for her unfaltering empathy washed over me.

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing homework. Or at least attempting to do homework. By dinner, I had barely put a dent on my to-do list. Everyone else had gotten over the events earlier, and they laughed as if their friend wasn't just bloodied a few hours ago.

"Thank Merlin for Umbridge!" Warrington exclaimed haughtily. "A lifetime ban on Potter and the Weasley twins... I'd say losing was worth it."

The table erupted with laughter and cheer. Even Pansy let out a giggle, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"What about you, Crabbe? Got in trouble for your stint with Potter earlier?"

Crabbe scoffed, and with a roll of his eyes, he answered, "I got lines."

"Worth it?"

"Definitely." Crabbe snickered.

I ate dinner in silence, and Daphne kept sneaking worried glances at me. By the time I had finished my food, I grabbed a cup of no-melt ice cream and I excused myself to the dormitory.

I intended to walk back down towards the dungeon – truly, I did – but my feet had a mind of its own and before I knew it, I was knocking on the hospital wing's doors.

Madam Pomfrey peaked through a small opening.

"Good evening, Madam Pomfrey. I'm Draco Malfoy's friend and–"

"He doesn't want visitors."

I scanned the Matron's face. She wore a tired expression, the wrinkles on the side of her mouth pronounced as she frowned.

Draco must have been giving her a difficult time.

Plastering on a reassuring smile, I spoke softly.

"Yes, I've heard. He could be quite difficult at times," I said, reflecting her unsaid sentiments.

Her eyes darted towards me, almost glinting with relief.

"I've been friends with Draco since we were just children," I lied. "I'm sure I could coax him out." I smiled sympathetically.

Madam Pomfrey looked at me up and down.

"I promise I won't stay long," I offered.

She pondered her decision for a moment before finally opening the door wide.

"That boy hasn't said a word since he got here," she warned.

I nodded before walking into the hospital wing. It was dark and only the gleam of the moonlight illuminated the place.

"The last bed on the right," she added before retreating back into her office.

I walked past rows of perfectly-made beds, careful not to wake him just in case he was asleep – up until I saw his figure in the dark. He was laying on his side, staring vacantly at the empty bed next to him.

As soon as I caught his eye, he glared at me and said, "Get out."

"I brought you ice cream," I said with a smile, ignoring his anger. He winced as he brought himself up on the bed.

"Are you a bloody _idiot_? Do you want me to spell it out for you? _Get. Out._ "

I approached him hesitantly, and when he said nothing more, I stood by his side, carefully cataloging his face. He had a bruise on his jaw, much darker than the one I had just a month ago. He stared up at me, my heart skipping a beat at the look of defeat on his face.

"Ice cream?" I offered again, still smiling.

He rolled his eyes before grabbing the cup from my hands.

Cautiously, I sat on an empty space on his bed, anticipating his protests. When he said nothing, I watched him eat the ice cream in silence. From this angle, I saw a few specks of dried blood just below his ear.

"Madam Pomfrey missed a few spots," I remarked, using this opportunity to initiate physical contact. After visiting the Muggle Psychology section in the library, I've learned that touch is essential in establishing trust. And trust is essential in establishing a sense of companionship. If I had any chance at all at ensuring my freedom, I had to make him trust me.

After yelling at him a few weeks ago, I thought I had ruined everything. First, by my outburst. Second, by my admission. And last, by almost believing him.

For days, I struggled to remind myself.

Inconsiderate. Disrespectful. Cruel.

And even at that moment as he looked at me, those three words felt like exactly what they were. Just words. In a twist of fate, I found myself grappling for reasons to doubt him. I found myself searching for reminders of who he were outside the Quidditch pitch and without the guise of the dark.

Inconsiderate. Disrespectful. Cruel.

I grabbed a dry face towel on the nightstand next to him then I walked towards the bathroom to wet it in the sink. I hurried back to wipe his face.

I brought the towel near his temple and he flinched at my touch.

"May I?" I asked, my hand hovering a few inches over his face.

He looked up at me, his chest rising and falling faster that what was normal.

He nodded tentatively.

I gently wiped the side of his face, making sure not to hit any of the bruises and marks. Carefully, I brushed the hair off his forehead, glancing at his eyes for any sign of discomfort. The moonlight made his grey eyes look blue, and he looked up at me curiously.

I felt my breath hitch, forcing me to focus my gaze on his forehead.

"Can you turn your head for me please," I whispered. He obliged and when I was sure his face was clean, I plopped back down onto the bed, releasing the breath that I was holding.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" I asked softly.

"I'm fine. You can go now."

"Have you eaten dinner?"

He gestured to the now empty cup of ice cream he was holding.

"That's it? I'll get you food," I said, already standing up.

"It's past 8, Ava. Dinner's over," he replied.

"I'll go to the kitchen."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

I frowned. "You need to eat."

"I said I'm fine," he said, annoyance stiffening his tone.

"No, you–"

"Ava." His tone had a sense of finality in them, forcing me to stop my fretting.

I sighed. "Why didn't you eat?" I asked.

"I wasn't in the mood."

I breathed out another sigh as I sat back down.

"I'm fine, Adara. Really... I could leave now if I wanted to, I just–"

He didn't want to face any of them yet.

"I understand," I said, not wanting him to say it out loud knowing that he didn't want to. "You did well," I added reassuringly.

"Not well enough," he laughed sarcastically. "When my father hears about this, he'd be furious at me."

I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip as the pang in my heart spread down to the depths of my stomach.

"Well, I think you did amazing... And I'm proud of you," I said.

Again, he looked at me with a curious expression on his face.

"We'll train more for the next match, alright?" I said, placing a tentative hand on his.

He froze, but said nothing.

Running the risk of crossing a line, I didn't bother scooting close. Instead, I grabbed the discarded Quidditch equipment from the floor.

Turning it over on my hand, I looked at him with false amazement. "This must've been so expensive. Dragon hide?"

His eyes glinted. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess?" I smiled, pretending humility.

"It's from a Swedish Short-Snout. It's the most expensive one," he said, his mood shifting.

"And this?" I said, pointing to his gloves.

His eyes lit up. For the rest of my visit, he talked animatedly about his collection of gloves and knee pads, the broomsticks he had at home, the moves he had used in the game, and a bunch of other things I had to pretend to understand.

He talked so excitedly about Quidditch, I couldn't help but smile.

"Miss," I heard Madam Pomfrey call from behind me after Merlin knows-how-long, "it's almost 9 and I don't want you walking around the corridors after curfew. Go along now."

"Just a minute!" I chimed. I turned back to Draco and said, "I'll visit you tomorrow."

He shook his head. "I'll see you at breakfast," he corrected.

"Okay–," I smiled, "–good night."

"Good night."

And with that, I walked back to the Slytherin common room, ready with an alibi about my whereabouts.


	10. Firewhiskey

December rolled around, and I wasn't sure if we had more homework than the ground had snow. Most of my days had been spent in the library with Daphne or in the common room with the rest of our friends, but either way, I had a book, parchment, and a quill in my hand.

As Christmas approached, Draco had been spending much less time with me and much more time with Pansy. The prefects were tasked to supervise the decoration of the castle ("Can't I just call my mother's decorator? I cannot believe they're making me do servant's work," Draco complained), to watch over first and second years spending their break times inside because of the cold ("I _hate_ children," Pansy announced as she walked towards our spot in the common room, "I don't remember being that annoying when we were in first year"), and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch who apparently thinks that the holiday spirit will bring about an influx of wizard duels ("That _bloody_ dimwitted caretaker – my father will hear about this!").

The snow had put a halt in Draco and I's weekly night practices, and the only time I got to talk to him (alone, at least) was during breakfast, Transfiguration class, and occasionally in the common room during breaks. Meanwhile, Pansy got him all to herself for hours on end.

I couldn't quite put a finger as to why that bothered me so much.

To my left, I caught Daphne staring at me as I rolled my eyes at Draco and Pansy's retreating figures. It was their shift with Filch and they had just stood up from our place in the common room, Pansy excitedly skipping next to Draco as they exited the dungeons.

"Before you ask again," I whispered, glaring at Daphne subtly, "no, I do not like Draco. At least not like _that._ "

"If you say so," she chuckled.

"No... really. I really don't," I added.

"I believe you," she replied, a teasing smile on her face.

"I'm not at all jealous," I muttered defensively, "and even if I were, it's not any different if I saw _you_ hanging around Pansy like that."

"No one said you were jealous, Ava." Daphne was struggling to keep a straight face, making me roll my eyes.

I turned back to face Tracey and Millie with a forced grin.

"Have you found the chapter on witch hunts?"

In the second week of December, Professor Snape came to the common room collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. I was lined up behind a couple of seventh year students when–

"You too, Adara?"

I turned back to face Draco's stupid, smirking face.

"Yeah. My aunts are traveling around Europe. You?"

"It's non–"

"None of my business... I get it," I interrupted, turning back to face Professor Snape. I wrote my name down on his list, gave the tall, black-haired man a polite smile, and strode back to the door of the girl's dormitory.

My hand reached for the knob, but before I could, someone had grabbed me by the wrist, turning my body forcefully.

I staggered back when I was met with Draco's chest.

I stopped myself short from glaring at him.

Instead, I smiled. "Yes?"

"Aunts?" He placed a hand on the wall behind me languidly.

"Oh... yeah. My aunt's best friend came to live with her."

"Oh."

"Is that all? Don't you have to go do something with Pansy?"

His smirk grew into a grin that almost reached his ears.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

"No," I said defensively. "Why would I be jealous?"

"What's with the attitude then?"

"What attitude? I've been nice to you, as always – what are you talking about?"

"Don't worry, Adara... You're still my favorite," he teased, smirking.

"Favorite?" I scoffed. "Tell me _your highness_ , what list have I received the honor of being top place?"

"Hmm," he said, pretending to inspect his tie. "Girls who fancy me?"

I huffed a cold smile. "I do not _fancy_ you," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Is that so?" Draco looked behind him to check if Professor Snape was still there, and from over his shoulder, I saw an almost empty common room. When he turned back to face me, he had a mischievous glint in his eyes that made my heart drop. He placed each of his hands on the wall next to my head, and I immediately shrunk back. "Say that again for me, will you?"

I forced a nonchalant laugh as my back hit the wall. "I don't know how many times I have to say this, Draco. I do _not_ have a crush on you."

"You say one thing, but you do another," he said, his voice low. His eyes dropped down to the remaining space between us, my hand placed on his chest, denting the white fabric of his uniform.

I swallowed thickly as he smirked.

Then he closed in on me, and I stopped breathing. There was only an inch of space between us, his knee lodged between my thighs, my hand lodged between our stomachs.

"Draco," I whispered, drawing my head away from his. "Stop."

He walked away, laughing.

Then, he paused mid-step. He turned back to face me, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Just so we're clear... I'm just joking around, alright? I can't afford to lose my Golden Snitch because she caught feelings."

I blinked.

Clenching my jaw and plastering on a fake smile, I said, "I can assure you. That wouldn't be a problem."

A week later, I awoke to an empty dormitory. Daphne and the others boarded the Hogwarts Express for the Christmas holidays the morning prior, leaving Draco and me alone with a couple of older Slytherin students who we didn't really know very well.

I've made up my mind to spend this day away from the common room, determined to be productive. After I had gotten ready for the day, I went around the castle to look for teachers who needed help with decorating or whatever it is they needed help with. The first half of the morning, I aided Professor Snape in creating potions for Madam Pomfrey, making sure to use the opportunity to curry his favor. Needless to say, the endeavor was really difficult. He wouldn't engage with my chit chat and the only time he'd ever open his mouth was to tell me to fetch an ingredient from somewhere.

After lunch, I set out to look for Professor Umbridge. As infuriating as she was, I didn't know how long she was staying at Hogwarts and I figured I needed to get on her good side.

I knocked on her office door.

"Come in." Her voice was muffled but the shrill forced-sweetness pierced through, making me grimace.

I entered cautiously, taking in all the lace and flower decor. One of the walls was filled with large ornamental plates designed with Technicolored kittens, each wearing different bows around its neck.

"Good afternoon, Professor," I said sweetly. "I was wondering if you needed assistance with anything? I wasn't able to go home for the holidays and I have a lot of spare time on my hands."

Her eyebrows rose a fraction, her eyes scanning me up and down. Then she broke out into a smile.

"Oh! How delightful you are! I had just about given up hope with the students here at Hogwarts. Most are so _unruly..._ Come here, sit, sit."

I strode over to the chair in front of her desk, keeping in mind my posture and my demeanor.

"What's your name, my dear?" Umbridge asked.

"Ava Adara," I said, smiling.

She gasped.

"Aster Adara's adoptive daughter, are you? No wonder! You're in your fifth year, correct?"

I nodded cheerfully.

"What house are you in?" she asked.

"Slytherin."

"Even better! Tell me, my dear, how are you holding up?"

I smiled, pausing to scan her face, and I knew immediately what she wanted to hear.

"I've been doing well, despite..." I pretended to falter.

"Despite what?" She smiled reassuringly. "You can tell me."

"Well... all the things Harry Potter has been saying have put a toll on our school life. It's gotten really difficult to focus on the things that actually matter."

"Oh–," she looked at me with pity, "–Dumbledore should have never let it get this far. _The poor children!"_

I nodded, forcing my lips into a doleful pout.

"No need to worry! I'll make sure this school is in tip-top shape when I'm done with it, alright?"

"Oh, thank you, Professor! That's very kind of you," I said, faking a wan smile.

" _Tut-tut_ , cheer up, dear! Here, have some tea," she said, filling a teacup and pushing it towards me, the smell of Earl Grey wafting up my nose. She gestured to the bowl of sugar cubes, smiling brightly.

I nodded gratefully as I dropped two sugar cubes into the liquid.

"So... it's your fifth year! Have you decided what you wanted to do after your studies?" she asked as I stirred my teaspoon around the cup, the sound of click-clank filling the room.

"Oh, I've known since I was just a child. I want to become an Auror, just like my uncle."

"How wonderful!" She exclaimed, bringing her hands to her chest in awe. "I expected nothing less from an Adara. We need more people like you in the Ministry, you know... These days, they accept anybody and–"

Just like that, I had spent an entire afternoon having tea with the High Inquisitor. She babbled on and on about the Ministry, and to my delight, I had learned more about it in just a few hours than I've had in my entire fifteen years of existence. She even complained about how the Weasley siblings and Harry Potter had disappeared before the term had ended without even a word with her, mentioning nonchalantly about how Arthur Weasley was in St. Mungo's after an accident _._ My eyes widened at the news, but I composed myself before she could notice. I sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening for Mr. Weasley to be safe and healthy. She went on about telling me all about her work and her plans for Hogwarts and at some point, she even let me in a few _secrets_ , and it made suffering through hours listening to her shrill voice worth it.

I was walking towards the Great Hall for dinner when I had caught sight of Draco. He was leaning languidly against the wall right next to the door with his arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. His eyes transformed into a glare when we saw me.

"Where have you been?" Draco fumed.

"I just–"

"You left me alone with nothing to do and no one to talk to."

"–had tea with Professor Umbridge."

His glare dropped as he gaped at me, unblinking.

"Tea with – what – who?"

"I had tea with Professor Umbridge," I repeated, amused at his befuddled expression.

He stared at me, mouth agape still, and I laughed as I walked past him and into the Great Hall.

"Aren't you going to explain?" I heard him say from behind me after a few seconds.

I sat down at our table, facing him.

"Let's just say that if I ever need anything, I can now go to her office anytime I want," I said, breaking out into a smug grin.

"You should have invited me," he complained.

"Guess where I was before I had tea with Umbridge."

"I don't–"

"Helping Snape make potions," I replied before he could finish his sentence. I tried not to look so proud, but I was and he could tell.

He rolled his eyes, smiling.

"You should have at least put a good word for me too."

I smiled wickedly.

"You did, didn't you?" he asked, his grin growing twice its size.

"Mhm. Well... I put a good word for "my friends in Slytherin"," I said, quoting the air, "but I made sure to mention you and Daphne."

His face switched from pleased to perplexed.

"You're not the only one with favorites, you know," I teased.

He laughed loudly.

"Tell me _your majesty_ , what list have I received the honor of being top place?" he echoed my words from last week, grinning from ear to ear.

I paused, contemplating my next words.

"Friends," I said.

His grin dropped slightly. The three months I've spent with him had been enough for me to pick up on how rigid he gets when things get too personal, so I loaded his plate with roast potatoes, something I knew he liked, as I changed the subject.

"So what did you do today?" I asked as I placed pork chops and potatoes on my plate.

He cleared his throat awkwardly before getting into a rant about how bored he was and how it was all my fault and how I should have let him in on my plan and how–

"It's Christmas Eve. We should celebrate," Draco said as we entered the common room.

"How?" I asked hesitantly, picking up Sofia from the chair by the fireplace. Going along with Draco's ideas for a celebration seemed like a dangerous proposition, and I needed to make sure I would be free from any trouble.

"Come," he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to the door of the boy's dormitory.

"Where are we going and what are we doing?" I asked, alarmed.

"I snuck in some Firewhiskey and–"

I pulled my hand back, stopping all of a sudden. I rubbed the back of my neck, my eyes fleeting across the room.

"What?" he asked.

"I don't know..."

"Why?"

"It's just... the two of us and... I'm not..."

His pompous laughter filled the room.

"Adara... you have a _dirty_ mind," he teased, shaking his head, "I'm not going to touch you, don't worry... I wouldn't want to."

I looked at him, squinting my eyes and crossing my arms tightly.

"Well, I wouldn't want to touch _you_ either," I huffed, walking past him towards the stairs up to their dormitory, his laugh following closely behind me. We walked down a hallway until he stopped in front of the fifth door to the left.

When I entered the room, I knew exactly which bed was his. The one nearest the door had all the original beddings removed, replaced with all black silk and fur. Even the green velvet that was supposed to be hung on his four-poster bed had been switched to black and unlike all the other walls, his wasn't cluttered with any pictures or posters. It was as blank as it had been on our first day. His nightstand had his textbooks neatly stacked, a letter perfectly perched on top of his books, and a quill and ink placed squarely on the right corner.

I walked towards his trunk where he was kneeling and skimming through his clothes, letting Sofia jump out of my arms. She strolled across the room, before jumping up and settling into one of the empty beds.

"Here," he said, pulling out a bottle filled with liquid the color of honey. I sat cautiously on the foot of his bed, grabbing the bottle from him. He rounded the corner and headed straight for his nightstand, taking out a bag of various snacks and emptying them out on his sheets. He sat a mere meter away from me, and the thought of me alone in bed with a boy past curfew made my throat constrict.

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Adara," he said sternly, brushing his fingers through his hair. "I promise I'm not going to try anything, alright? I know I can be a git but I'm not _that_ kind of git... Trust me?"

I paused, hesitating.

I shouldn't. I _really_ shouldn't. But–

It was Christmas. Aster's death anniversary had just passed. Anything seemed better than being alone. And Draco–

I've spent two nights a week with him for three months in the dark of the night, no witnesses, my wand inside his pocket, and not once did he touch me without my consent. He was right. He was a git, but I was certain he wasn't _that_ kind.

I nodded slowly, letting my tense shoulders relax.

"Here," he said, grabbing the bottle from my hand, "make sure _you_ don't take advantage of _me_."

I laughed, rolling my eyes, as he chugged the Firewhiskey. He winced into the bottle.

"This cheap shitestings," he said, looking at the label. "I like it."

He handed it to me, and I took a small sip. A bitter taste entered my mouth, and it felt like there were tiny knives scraping the walls of my throat as I swallowed. I made a sound in between a gag and a cough, making Draco laugh.

"That's disgusting," I said.

"First time?"

I nodded, making him laugh even more.

"My uncle was very protective, okay – stop laughing!" But I couldn't help but laugh along with him. He had a hand on his stomach, his head rolled back as he bellowed in laughter, and I knew it wasn't even that funny, but the sound of his laugh tickled.

I handed the bottle back as I settled on his bed, crossing my legs together.

"So, why did Crabbe and Goyle leave you here?" I asked, looking around the empty room. It was dark, our only source of light: the candle on Draco's nightstand.

"They were... _needed_ at home."

"And you're not?"

He took a big gulp, wincing again before he answered.

"We're apparently expecting _a lot_ of... guests... Mother says it would be better for me to sit this one out."

"Well, at least I'm here, right?" I quipped, grabbing the bottle and sipping a little. At this point, I've had, at most, two tablespoons worth of Firewhiskey, yet the bottle had already been reduced by ¼.

He grabbed the bottle from me again, taking another big gulp.

"I'd rather be alone, actually," he said, smirking.

"Liar," I replied, grabbing a chocolate bar from the center of the bed.

"How are you so sure?" he asked, chugging the bottle again, not even bothering to offer it to me. I ripped open the chocolate's packaging and to my surprise, it was pink and dotted with small red speckles.

"Well..." I said, coughing dramatically. " _Where have you been? You left me alone with ba-ba-blah-ba-blah,"_ I mocked animatedly, making him laugh, and in turn, making me laugh. I took a bite of the pink chocolate bar, and my face lit up at the taste. It was sweet with hints of tang, and it tasted almost like–

"Strawberry," Draco explained, smiling at my expression.

"Strawberry-flavored chocolate?"

"Mother gets it from France."

"Ah... no wonder," I said, letting the sweet concoction melt in my mouth.

The rest of the night was filled with fits of laughter. We joked about anything and everything. About how he's convinced himself that Potter wears fake glasses just to appear _different_ and _special_ to keep up his image. And how he thinks Pansy and Granger are two sides of the same coin, both incredibly viciouswhen angry and both incredibly hungry for praise and attention. And how Blaise takes an entire hourto prepare for the day and that's why he, Crabbe, and Goyle eat breakfast that early to avoid the pretty boyscuttering about their dormitory.

We took turns sipping (or in his case, gulping) the Firewhiskey and eating (or in my case, devouring) his snacks, and every time he laughed, I laughed almost automatically. There was something about the sound that tickled something in my belly, or maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but I couldn't stop giggling.

I knew he was gone when he started referring to me in third person.

"Where's Ava?" he asked, his eyes drooping low. We were sprawled horizontally on his bed, our legs falling on one side, our heads hanging from the other. "I was just with her."

"Ava is here." I laughed.

"Where?" He raised his head slightly, attempting to open his eyes, before giving up and letting himself fall back down.

"You're drunk," I said, sitting up.

"Nooooo," he whined, "I'm not drunk."

"Yes, you are." I smiled, grabbing the empty bottle from his hand and placing it on top of his nightstand. I grabbed his legs, attempting to reposition him so that he could sleep properly.

"Don't touch me! Where's Ava?" he slurred, slapping my hand away.

"I'm Ava, Draco," I replied gingerly. I stumbled over nothing, almost toppling on top of him, but I made myself fall on the bed instead.

"Oh," he said, "hi." He smiled at me groggily. I stood up again, grabbing his legs once more, and thankfully, this time, he didn't struggle. I circled the bed to where his head hung awkwardly on the edge of his pillow.

"Ava?" he asked, his eyes barely open.

"Yes?"

"You know... I wish I had you growing up..."

"And why is that?" I asked, cradling his head and bringing it to the center of his pillow.

"Well... for one thing... I think you're funny," he slurred. "And I know you think I'm funny too..."

"Even when drunk, you think so highly of yourself," I jabbed, sitting down on the side of his bed.

"Don't lie," he said. "You laugh at my jokes... and I know you think I don't notice, but I know when you're faking and when you're not. And I also know I've made jokes you wish you didn't find funny but you do..."

I smiled. "I laugh, not because I agree, but because it was witty. I feel like I need to highlight that difference," I replied, chuckling.

"Whatever," he said, gently pushing me away. I'm sure he meant for it to be more of a shove, but he was too weak and too liquored up to do so.

"What's the second thing?" I asked.

He stilled. Then he sighed deeply.

"You're... the only one... who looks at me the way you do... even when nobody's looking...," he said sluggishly, "...especially when nobody's looking."

I paused, letting his words sink in.

He was quiet for a few moments, and he looked so peaceful I thought he had fallen asleep, but then he opened his mouth once more.

"You look at me... and I feel like me. Not... Slytherin bully Draco... not heir of Malfoy and Black estate Draco... not son of Death Eater Draco... just Draco..."

Each word made me sober up, and by the end of his spiel, it was like I had never drank.

I took a deep breath, fiddling with my hands on my lap.

"Everyone else either... needs something from me... or just downright hates me." He chuckled. "You don't hate me, don't you, Ava?"

"Not anymore." I smiled.

"I wish you were a dog... or a cat... I don't really care."

I laughed out loud at the absurdity of his request.

"Why is that?" I asked, amused.

"I just want... to keep you on a leash... like a pet," he mumbled, "so that you'll be... by my side... all the time."

"That is so degrading... but also very sweet." I chuckled awkwardly. "Very on brand of you."

He hummed softly, his eyes now closed all the way.

I gently brushed the loose strands of hair away from his face, admiring how peaceful he looked asleep. That was when an encouraging thought crept into my mind:

I've done it. I have infiltrated Draco Malfoy's life.

**_–_ **

**_LISTEN:_ ** _pov – Ariana Grande_


	11. Mudblood

The sound of retching brought me out of my slumber. My eyes fluttered open and on the bed next to me, Draco was leaning over the side of his bed, vomiting onto the floor.

"Draco," I whispered throatily, rubbing my eyes and stretching my arms. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I was suddenly made aware of a hammering sensation in the front of my head, making me groan in pain.

"Adara," he whined, "I'm dying."

And despite the horrible headache, I laughed.

I forced myself up from the bed, painfully stumbling to where Draco was perched. I was just about to feel self-conscious about how horrible I must have looked when I saw his face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was disheveled, and he had vomit all over his jumper. His head rested on his headboard, and he looked absolutely appalling.

"Go away," he said, glaring at me.

"You need to take a bath. You look disgusting," I laughed blithely.

"I hate you," he grumbled, his glare intensifying.

"No, you don't."

"How are you so sure?" he sneered.

Memories of last night came flashing through my mind, and the reminder of his words brought about an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

"I just am." I chuckled awkwardly, extending my hand for him to take. "Come on."

I realized he must not have remembered what he said, and I decided not to aggravate him with it. I could see either of the two things happening if I brought it up: he would deny it and start avoiding me or he would deny it and overcompensate by tormenting me. I would very much like to stay on Draco Malfoy's good side, thank you very much.

He bitterly took my hand, and with all the strength I could muster, I pulled him up from the bed. He sat awkwardly at the edge, shoulders slumped. I brought his right arm over my shoulders, circling my left arm around his waist. I attempted to get both of us standing up, but he was too heavy, and we fell back on his bed.

"Draco, I can't carry you. You're going to have to stand up."

He nodded half-heartedly.

"Okay, 1... 2... 3..."

We stumbled towards their bathroom, Draco leaning most of his weight on me, and when we entered the white-tiled room, he scampered off towards the toilet to puke. The sound was enough to make me gag, but I powered through. Pinching my nose and closing my eyes, I rubbed his back gently.

When he finished, he flushed the toilet, closed the lid, and slumped down on it.

"Everything _fucking_ hurts," he groaned.

"And that is why you need to take a bath," I said. "Then we can go up and get breakfast."

I walked towards their bathtub. Turning on the faucet, I made sure the water was warm enough before walking back to where Draco sat.

"You're going to have to take off your clothes," I mumbled, and I felt the blood rush through my cheeks as soon as the words left my lips.

With his eyes drooping down, he nodded slowly, lifting his arms and pausing. I stood there, waiting for him to move... until I realized he wanted _me_ to take off _his clothes._

"I – uh–," I stammered. He stayed as still as he was, ignoring my sounds of embarrassment.

I took a deep breath.

"Fine," I huffed.

I cautiously hooked my fingers on the hem of his jumper, and I thanked Merlin that Draco's eyes were barely open, or else he would have seen a face of pure humiliation. I took it off, careful not to get any of the puke on his face.

I took a deep breath.

"Draco, the bath's ready," I mumbled, eyes averted.

He stood up, and I held his arm to steady his wobbling figure as we walked towards the bathtub. He fumbled with the button of his pants, grunting in frustration after a few attempts.

Begrudgingly, I grumbled, "Let me."

"Adara–," Draco chuckled, "–you said you won't take advantage of me."

I glared at him. "Here's what's going to happen, alright?" I said. "I'm going to – Draco! Are you listening to me?"

He nodded slowly, eyes droopy. Still, he managed to plaster a smirk on his face.

"I'll unbutton your pants, then I'll turn around, and you get in the bath. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I fumbled with the button of his pants, and I was suddenly very much aware of his pale, muscular torso hovering a few inches from my arms, and when I had gotten the button out, I accidentally let out a small squeal before turning on my heel quicker than his pants could drop. I raced to the other end of the bathroom, coming face-to-face with one of the walls.

I buried my face in my hands as I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

"You're such a prude," he muttered.

I heard the sound of _swish-swash_ on the water.

"You can turn around now," Draco said.

"Make bubbles first, or something."

"Alright." He chuckled.

I heard movement from behind me, and I distinctly heard the squeak of a bottle, and then even more swishing.

"Okay, now you can turn around," he said.

I started to turn, but then an unwanted image popped into my mind, making me pause.

"Draco, I swear on Merlin's name, if I see your _penis_ today, I'm reporting you to Professor Snape!"

He burst into laughter, and soon after grunts of pain.

"Adara, do not make me laugh. It hurts," he groaned.

"I wasn't trying to make you laugh," I replied, turning slowly. He was submerged in the water, his body covered with bubble water and his head resting on the edge of the bathtub. I approached him hesitantly.

I took his clothes from the floor, bringing them to the laundry chute, and I made a mental note to inform one of the elves about the mess he made on their bedroom floor.

"Are you going to be okay now?" I asked, staring at the back of his head.

"Can you wash my hair?" he asked. "I don't want to lift my arms."

I looked at him incredulously, before sighing and approaching the bathtub.

"Oh," he said when I sat on the ledge of the tub, facing away from his body. "I didn't think you'd agree."

"What are friends for?" I said gently, giving him a small smile.

After I had washed his hair, I left him to get dressed. I tiptoed out of his room, Sofia in my arms, careful not to be seen by anyone. Merlin knows what rumors would have spread if someone witnessed me leave Draco's room in the state that I was in. As advanced wizards and witches are with our magic, the people were still incredibly old-fashioned (as seen with our adamant will to use quills when pens existed), and I would rather not be called a _harlot_ because of my perceived promiscuity.

I ran to the girl's dormitory, and I quickly took a bath so as not to keep Draco waiting. After bathing, I sat on the foot of my bed, brushing my hair and opening presents simultaneously. Eleanor had sent me a new bottle of my favorite perfume, along with a bundle of new clothes she designed. Aunt Lara gave me a bag full of makeup that I have yet to figure out how to use. Daphne left me a designer leather tote bag, Millie got me a leather-bound journal with a matching luxury falcon-feather quill from Tracey, while each of the boys who had left sent a variation of a gift basket, surely prepared and sent by their mothers for the sake of formality.

I grabbed Draco's present I had ordered a few days prior before running down to the common room and back up the boy's dormitory.

"Happy Christmas!" I chimed as soon as he opened the door, my arms extended as I handed the wrapped gift box to him.

"Happy Christmas," he muttered under his breath, his scowl not leaving his face even as he retrieved the present from my hand.

He looked a lot better than he did this morning, but every once in a while, he would grimace in pain. I felt a lot better after my bath, but then again, I only drank, at most, ¼ of the Firewhiskey. He finished the rest.

"Open it," I said, closing the door behind me. He sat on his bed, unraveling the silver ribbon and tearing apart the black gift wrapper.

I breathed out a sigh of relief when his eyes lit up.

"Is it–?" He asked as he opened the box, the excitement steadily rising on his face. He had been raving on and on about the new Quidditch gloves his favorite player was using.

Jackson Murray from Montrose Magpies.

That's about the extent of my knowledge on Quidditch teams. After hearing Draco drawl on and on about him, the name had engraved itself on the back of my head.

"Mhm," I hummed. In an instant, the gloves were on his hands and he ogled it like a moth to a flame.

Without pausing, he grabbed a small box on top of his trunk. He then tossed it to me without a word of warning. The alcohol left me buzzed, my reflexes lagged as a result. It fell by my foot with a small thud, forcing him to stop and look at me.

"You got me a gift?" I asked, wide-eyed, as I picked up the box from the floor.

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I just wasn't expecting it, is all," I explained.

"I have a lot of money. I give gifts," he stated matter-of-factly, going back to inspect his new gloves.

I opened the bare velvet box, and my mouth dropped open at the sight.

Inside was the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen. It had a thin gold byzantine chain and at the bottom was a gold wing-shaped pendant dropping down to a small marquise-cut diamond. I stared at it for a few moments, awestruck at how well the crystal bounced off the light.

I looked up to see that Draco had been watching me.

"I saw it in one of the catalogues I had been reading. I didn't know if you liked gold or white gold, but I–"

"It's beautiful," I said wistfully. "Thank you."

He smiled.

"Don't go crying on me now," he joked.

December had passed and the golden wings had never left my chest. It fell beautifully on top of my birthmark, making what I had thought was ugly all my life a little bit more excusable.

January came and the halls had been slowly filling up with students finally back from the Christmas holidays, and when Daphne returned, she couldn't stop asking me about the necklace.

"Malfoy gave that to you?" she asked in disbelief as I watched her sit in front of her trunk to unpack her things.

I nodded innocuously.

"And you're still insisting on the whole "just friends" thing?" she said, quoting the air.

"Yes–," I jutted my chin, "–because we are. A necklace isn't that sentimental when you're _that_ rich," I said, rotating the diamond between my thumb and index finger. "He got _you_ a present too," I added, pointing to the gift basket on her bed.

"Yes, the same present he had given everyone else," she said, pointing to the other beds where the same gift baskets lay. "I'm not walking around with an expensive piece of jewelry around my neck."

"Okay, _yes,_ but I gave you a bracelet and you have no qualms with that," I argued.

"That's because we're best friends!" she exclaimed, irritation clouding her tone.

"Well, maybe Draco and I are best friendstoo," I said, earning myself a glare. "I mean, you're my best friend-best friend, but you know what I mean!"

"Fine," she huffed. "I just can't wrap my head around this whole _friendship_ thing, but fine."

"Thank you," I said, "but can you not mention it to anyone else? Merlin knows how Pansy would react if she found out."

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"So, how were your holidays?"

"Oh... uh – it was fine. Same old, same old," she said. "We stayed at home the whole time."

"How are your parents?" I asked, grabbing a book from her bag and flipping through.

"They're doing well. They kept on badgering me about being careful around Harry Potter," she laughed, eyeing the book I was holding.

"And your sister?"

"Oh, you know, still as boy-crazy," she rolled her eyes. "I think she's currently dating Blaise's younger brother – wait, no – _talking_ _._ _"_ She laughed. "She's _talking_ to Alistair Zabini."

" _Talking_?" I huffed a smile, amused. "What's _talking?_ Dating in itself is already so confusing, why do they have to make up all these new steps?"

She chuckled, glancing sideways at the book.

" _Lucy Maud Montgomery_... I've never heard of her before. Is it new?"

"Uh... not really," she said, shoulders tensing.

"Are you alright? Is it... expensive? Do you not want me to touch it?"

"No, no... it's just that–," she started, obviously flustered. "Okay, fine! It's a Muggle book."

"Oh," I said, unfazed. "Where'd you get it?"

"I – from this Muggle book store near our house," she said, agitated.

"Daphne... I'm not going to tell anybody. Why are you so worried?"

"It's not that. It's just – it's – uh... nothing," she stammered.

"Okay," I laughed, putting the book back down in an attempt to calm her. "You don't have to fret. I won't touch it."

"No." She took a deep breath. "You can read it if you want. It's actually really good," she said, smiling apologetically.

"Hmm, maybe after O.W.L.s."

I had no plans of reading that book.

Dinner came, and Daphne and I walked up the stone stairs to the Great Hall. We sat at our table next to Theo, Millie, and Tracey while the rest sat in front of us. Daphne and I were deep in a conversation so I hadn't noticed what was happening until Blaise called my attention.

"Adara!" Blaise said. "I can't believe you got Malfoy _the_ gloves."

My heart dropped to my stomach.

Draco sat there, a smug smirk on his face and the Quidditch gloves on his hands as he bragged about them to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh–," I laughed awkwardly, "–yeah, but I got you a nice present too," I said in an attempt to divert the conversation.

I gave everyone matching forest green pashmina scarves. I even left one on Pansy's bed in an attempt at reconciliation, but one look at her face showed that that was definitely off the table.

Once again, Draco's competitiveness surged forward, and he pointed to my neck and said, "And I gave her that necklace, so we're even."

What came next happened so quickly, it was as though time was moving in fast forward.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Adara?" Pansy snapped, making everyone turn to look at her.

My heart thundered against my chest.

"Pansy," Daphne pleaded, "not here."

"I don't _fucking_ care where we are. Honestly, Ava, _fuck you,_ " Pansy said.

Blaise turned to her, grabbing her arm.

"Don't touch me, Zabini or, I swear on my wand, I will hex you," she hissed.

Blaise raised his hands in defeat.

"What's happening?" Goyle asked, wide-eyed.

"What's your problem?" Draco demanded, voice frosty, making everyone stop and stare.

" _She,_ " Pansy exclaimed, pointing at me sharply. "She's my problem!"

She turned to me, jaw clenched and eyes cold.

"I don't know what spell you got him under but if you don't stop, I swear to Merlin, I'll–"

"You'll what?" Draco demanded, standing up, making Pansy flinch.

She turned to Draco, chin quivering.

"Draco... what are you doing?" Pansy asked pleadingly.

"What do you mean what am I doing? Am I not allowed to have friends?"

"I've been your _friend_ since we were babies. You know I've liked you since we were little. And yet you're picking _her_ over me," she said miserably, her voice trembling.

"I'm not _picking_ anybody," he replied coldly. "And who the _fuck_ are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"That's not what I'm do–"

"I don't _fucking_ owe you an explanation, Pansy. But to be clear, Ava and I are _just friends,"_ he said with finality.

I gripped the fork on my hand tightly and I felt everybody's eyes boring into me.

Pansy paused, gulping before starting again.

"Draco, what would your parents think? With you being _friends_ with a _mudblood_ ," Pansy said pointedly, making everyone around me gasp.

"Pansy!" Daphne said, standing up.

"Pansy, that's too much," Blaise added.

Draco's glare turned into a snarl.

"She's not," he said bitingly, and I could practically cut through the tension in the room.

A few of the Ravenclaws in the neighboring table have stopped to listen, and I dropped my head in humiliation.

"She might as well be. She doesn't even know who her parents are!" Pansy sneered.

"Shut it, Pansy," Draco warned, balling his fists.

"It's true though? Isn't it, Adara? Mommy and Daddy died when you were just a baby?" Pansy taunted, pouting mockingly. "Or maybe they left you and wanted to make sure you wouldn't find them ever again?" Pansy laughed scornfully.

"Pansy!" Millie exclaimed, finally speaking up. "You're going over the line."

Pansy ignored her.

"The only reason why we've put up with you for this long is because of your _oh-so-great_ uncle. But now that he's dead–"

Draco slammed on the table and a thunderous clap was heard in the Great Hall. I jumped in surprise. Everyone else who hasn't noticed was definitely paying attention now.

"I SAID SHUT IT," Draco roared.

"Malfoy! Parkinson!" Professor McGonagall yelled, "Twenty points for the both of you!"

I dropped the fork I was holding, letting it clank on my plate.

I stood up and ran away.

I heard pounding in my ears. I felt my heart banging against my chest. My feet moved on their own as I passed blurry figures and shaky walls. I had to get away.

I was running and there was a flash of red hair by the door, arms extended, but I ran past him. There were students walking all over the entrance hall, stopping and whispering and looking, and I ran past them too. I kept running and running and running, not really knowing where I was going.

My vision blurry with tears, I was snapped back when my hands hit the white snow. I was down on all fours, panting against the biting cold air. My chest had grown tight and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

_Orphan. Dead uncle. Mudblood._

I was losing feeling on the ends of my toes and my fingertips. I gripped the ice-cold snow on my bare hands. I realized I was dressed in only a jumper and trousers when a shiver went down my spine from the sudden violent gust of wind. I was grateful then that I was at least still able to feel. I was filled with the overwhelming desire to lay down, and so I did. In the middle of I don't know where. On top of at least two feet of snow.

I looked up at the night sky, relishing at the sharp pain against my skin from the cold of the snow as my eyes counted the endless expanse of stars. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn't dare let them fall. I watched the slight fog that exited my mouth every time I took a breath.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

The frosty air hurt as it plunged down my throat and into my lungs, and that too, I relished.

Time passed. Seconds, minutes, I couldn't tell.

When I stopped hearing my heartbeat as if my heart had been excavated from my chest and placed against my ears, I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to get up. I had no intention of dying tonight, especially not from frostbite.

Just as I sat up, a flash of light blinded me.

"She's here!" I heard someone yell.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Goyle a couple of meters away, pointing his illuminated wand in my direction and beckoning for others to come. One by one, people started to flock towards me, and it took all of my willpower not to crouch back down the shallow hole I've created.

"Ava, you're freezing," Daphne said, grabbing my hands.

"Here," Tracey muttered as she wrapped a wool jacket over me before casting a warming spell.

Daphne wrapped her arms around me, guiding me back towards the castle and passing each of our friends' worried faces. I dropped my head down, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. I didn't want to see Crabbe and Goyle's oblivious wide eyes, nor Theodore's steely, concerned gaze, nor Blaise's look of pity, nor Tracey and Millie's genuine sympathy. Above all, I most definitely did not want to see Draco's–

I couldn't even guess how he would look at me.

I hung my head low as Daphne guided me down the stone stairs towards the dungeons, and I thanked Merlin that not one of them dared to ask me any questions. When we entered the common room, Pansy had been pacing in front of the fireplace. When she saw us walk in, a look of relief flashed across her face, but then she clenched her jaw and crossed her arms just as quickly, rolling her eyes as she plopped down on the sofa.

Daphne and I headed straight towards the dormitory while Tracey and Millie stayed behind, probably to appease Pansy or to assure their allegiance to her or tell her whatever it is she wanted to hear.

Daphne drew me a hot bath, and I had only noticed I was shivering when I was finally alone in the bathroom.

I look at the reflection staring back at me in the mirror. Dark brown eyes, almost black, void of any emotion.

_Orphan. Dead uncle. Mudblood._

Something shatters inside and I finally let the tears fall.

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Like Everybody Else - Acoustic – Lennon Stella_


	12. Casualties

I sat in front of the dying fireplace, my hands hovering above the burning logs as I tried desperately to warm them. It was well over past midnight, and restless as always, I slithered out of my bed and out to the common room.

After I had taken a bath, I exited the bathroom and as soon as the door clicked shut, everyone whipped their heads in my direction and their looks of _pity_ were almost enough to send me over the edge again. Funny enough, Pansy's glare was much more welcomed – almost bordering appreciated. I would much rather be hated than pitied, and I couldn't bear looking at my friends' faces much longer. I scampered towards my bed, pulling the green velvet curtains shut. I laid there in the darkness for hours, eyes closed, willing myself to sleep away the events of the night.

The fact that I was there, sitting on the floor in the dark, can present an idea as to how that went.

"I knew it," I heard a silvery voice exclaim, startling me.

I squinted my eyes at the direction of Draco's voice, and I could vaguely make out his approaching frame. When he was near enough for the low fire to illuminate his tired face, I forced a smile up at him.

His face fell.

"Don't–," I said suddenly, "don't look at me like that."

He sighed, sitting down next to me.

"I'm okay," I answered before he could ask, knowing full well that he wouldn't ask.

"You're not," he said callously. "Don't lie."

"I'm not lying," I argued. "I'm okay now."

He looked at me warily, as if I were a goblet teetering over the edge of a table. As if any sudden movement could send me crashing down the floor and shattering into pieces. _I hated it._ Hated it so much that I had the thought to smack him across the face just to prove that he did not _need_ to be careful with me.

But then he averted his eyes.

"You should have said something earlier," he grumbled, using his wand to rearrange the logs. The fire burned brighter and I let my hands fall to my sides.

"If you're just here to tell me that I'm weak, or naive, or whatever it is you call me, I'm really not in the mood."

He opened his mouth but closed it just as quickly. Shaking his head indignantly, he stretched his body to grab a pillow from the sofa.

"Here I thought you came down here to comfort me," I said, chuckling sarcastically. He propped the pillow behind him, leaning back on the table.

He sighed.

"Why did you run off like that?" he asked. "Do you even know how worried _they_ were? You were gone for twenty minutes and the last you've been seen, you were running outside with barely any clothes on."

"I had a jumper," I said defensively, ignoring the tug in my heart.

"You could have died."

"I'm not stupid. I wouldn't have let myself die."

"I never said you were stupid, I wa–"

"That's what you were implying," I interrupted harshly.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?"

I flinched.

"Nothing," I replied, crossing my arms and glaring at the fire in front of us.

"Here we go again! Stop pretending like nothing's bothering you. Stop running away the minute you feel something remotely _unhappy._ Stop–"

" _Remotely_ unhappy? You think I was just–"

"Will you let me finish?"

" _–remotely_ _unhappy_? You think I would have laid in the snow if I was just–"

"Well, if you were _that_ upset then why didn't you say anything?!"

"'Cause you were too busy _saying_ _something_ for me!"

"Would you really have said something to Pansy if I hadn't?!"

I stopped. I leaned back, attempting to calm myself. _Breathe in_ for four seconds. _Hold_ for seven. _Breathe out_ for eight. Over and over again.

"You know you wouldn't have."

I stayed silent, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"I don't understand how you can be okay with someone talking down at you like that," he said, curling his lip.

I sighed.

"You let everyone else speak up on your behalf. What happens if Daphne's not around? What happens if _I'm_ not around?"

"I don't need _you_ or anyone else to defend me," I replied coldly, still much harsher than I intended.

He scoffed. "So, are we supposed to just sit back and let people walk all over you?"

I clenched my jaw. "Well, maybe if you did just that, I wouldn't have been humiliated in front of the _entire school."_

"It wasn't the _entire_ school."

"Well, it might as well have been. You know how fast word spreads around here."

"Pansy would have humiliated you either way."

I balled my hands into fists, attempting to control the rising frustration within me. "Have you ever considered that maybe I don't defend myself, not because I can't, but because I don't want to?" I demanded, my voice rising just a fraction.

"Why the _fuck_ do you not want to?" he hissed, matching my tone.

"Because not everything deserves a reaction, Draco!"

"Disrespect doesn't deserve a reaction?!" He looked at me incredulously.

"No, but–"

"But what?"

I faltered.

"I don't care what Pansy thinks of me," I whispered.

"Then why were you upset?"

"Because I care what _you_ think of me."

He leaned back, tilting his head. "What?"

"What if I were? A _mudblood_. What would you do then?"

"You're not," he said, shaking his head as if it were a fact he had known to be true.

"How do you know that?" I asked, voice taut. "I don't even know that."

"I just... do, alright?" His brows were furrowed, distress clear in his eyes.

"Seems to me like you're in denial," I retorted.

He scanned me up and down, seemingly lost in thought. When his nose scrunched up in disdain, I knew his answer before he could say it out loud.

"You can't be," he said.

"But if I am?" I still asked. I wanted to hear him say it, wanted the pain that comes along with his words, because maybe then it'll be easier to accept when it happens. Maybe then, it wouldn't hurt as much when I find out that I am. _If_ I find out that I am.

Still, part of me had been wishful thinking. Maybe after all this time, after all my effort, _maybe..._ just maybe, I can be his exception.

He said nothing. He only looked at me as if I disgusted him. Like I was the scum of the earth.

It felt like a punch in the gut. I laughed.

The universe and it's twisted humor; an ambiguous answer fitting for my ambiguous identity.

I didn't bother looking at him. I stood up and I walked away.

But I slowed down.

I paused, giving him a chance to call my name, or to stand up and grab my arm, to tell me that nothing will change, or at least, that he'll try.

He doesn't. Because that's not him.

That's not Draco.

I didn't eat breakfast with him the next day, nor the day after that. We sat next to each other in Transfiguration in silence, both of our arms crossed. I avoided his gaze at all times. I realized then just how much of our " _friendship"_ was based on _my_ persistence. _I_ talked to him over breakfast. _I_ smiled at him in the common room. _I_ helped him with Transfiguration. _I_ did all the doing, and he just _accepts._

I knew I had to apologize eventually. He still kept my secret, and despite the assurance that I hadmade him care enough about me to protect it, I knew him to be volatile. One moment he's a calm river, the next he's a ferocious storm. But I bided my time. I was upset, and I wasn't going to deny myself of the emotions I had every right to feel.

Everyone else was still looking at me as if they were just waiting for me to detonate. Or maybe because they've realized that I _might_ be Muggle-born and they no longer wanted to associate with me. Either way, I avoided all of them. I've spent most of my breaks in the library, trying to look for a lead as to who my parents might be. I've looked through history books, searched archived newspapers, checked old photographs strewn all over the school, but nothing. I had no idea how to even start. All I knew was that I was adopted a few months after I turned one therefore my parents died(or left me) in the year 1981.

I thought about writing to Eleanor, but the reason why it took me this long to search is that I didn't want to upset them. Didn't want to make them feel as if they lacked in any aspect, because they didn't. Not even a little. Not even at all. So much so that I felt... _okay_ about not knowing. I've lived fifteen years of my life not remembering who my parents were or where I came from, and I have been happy. I've been complete.

Up until Pansy decided to rip it all apart.

I shut the 1974-75 Hogwarts yearbook much harder than I intended, making the library-goers near me turn their heads and glare. I don't know what I expected to find. I had nothing to look for, no name to watch out for, no date, no information, nothing. I dropped my head onto my hands, sighing in frustration.

All of a sudden, someone cleared their throat in front of me.

I looked up. Cassius Warrington _._

"Hey," he said, smiling nervously, his weight shifting from side to side.

"Hi." I smiled back.

"Ava Adara, right? Malfoy's friend?" He asked, sitting across the table, his broad shoulders reaching beyond the back of his chair. He had on a light beige knitted sweatshirt accentuating the amber in his eyes and the bronze of his hair.

"Uh – yes...?"

"Sorry, I don't mean to be too forward but–," he gulped, "–I heard what happened... with Parkinson... and... you've been here a while and... I was wondering if... you were... uhh–" He averted his eyes, massaging the nape of his neck.

"Looking for my parents?" I offered, smiling reassuringly.

He looked at me, eyes widened slightly, lips parted.

"Yes? Sorry, if that was inappropriate. I–"

"No, it's fine," I assured. "Uh... yes, I am."

He nodded slowly.

"I've been watching you and you seemed stressed and I thought... maybe this... would help?" He handed me a black leather-bound book. In front of it read, ' _Casualties of the Wizarding War'._

I inhaled sharply.

I grabbed it from his outstretched hand, brushing my fingers against the gold embossed letters.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I–," he said, worried.

"No," I said, looking back up at him, "thank you."

He stared at me warily.

"Please don't do that." I laughed. "Ever since the stint with Pansy, everyone's acting as if I'm _fragile."_

He huffed a smile. "And you're not fragile...?" he asked, a corner of his lip twitching upward.

"No, I'm not..." I bit my bottom lip to stifle a grin.

"Good to know," he replied, allure coloring his tone.

I dropped my gaze as I scrolled through the book.

"How do you know about this?" I asked.

"Oh, well... my father... he... died when I was 3 when _You-Know-Who_ was – but he wasn't a Death Eater or anything," he explained defensively, wide-eyed. "He was just–," he pointed to the book, chuckling, "–a casualty of the Wizarding War."

"Oh." I nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, it's alright," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "They gave every family who's lost somebody in the war a copy of the book. ' _As a way to honor them,'_ they said. When I saw you slam shut another yearbook–," he laughed, "–I checked if the library had a copy... and they did."

"That's very kind of you," I said. "Thank you."

"It's no problem," he replied, shaking his head.

He turned his head to check the clock by the door.

"It's almost 4:30. I have to go. Quidditch practice," he said almost sheepishly as he stood up. "I'll see you around?"

I nodded, smiling brightly.

"See you!"

After he had left the library, I released a deep breath, finally letting myself break out into a grin.

Cassius Warrington had been my first crush here in Hogwarts. Back in second year, I had been running around the courtyard with Daphne and Tracey when I bumped into him accidentally. I staggered back, and he grabbed me by the elbow to steady me.

"Watch your step," he joked. Then he _winked_ at me. To twelve-year-old Ava, that was _everything._ He was a fourth year _and_ a Chaser. Daphne, Tracey, and I fawned over him for the entire year, but just like every other childhood crush, we grew out of it.

Still, having had an actual conversation with him for the _first time,_ I felt _so_ giddy. So much so that I skipped to the Great Hall for dinner with the borrowed book in my hand and a grin on my face.

"Finally!" Daphne teased as I approached our table. "The Ava we know and love is back."

I laughed as Tracey cheered.

"We've missed you," Tracey said, pouting.

"You will not believe what just happened," I whispered as I sat down, still smiling from ear-to-ear.

But just as I was about to tell them the story, the rest of our friends entered the Great Hall and walked over to our table.

"Are my eyes deceiving me? Is that... Adara... smiling again?" Blaise teased. I hit him on the arm lightly, cringing as my hand came in contact with his sweaty Quidditch uniform. Next to him, Pansy rolled her eyes before making her way to sit between Millie and Tracey.

"Ava's done moping?" Crabbe said, wide-eyed and grinning. "Thank Merlin! I need help with my History homework."

"Crabbe!" Daphne derided, but her smile gave her away. I mirrored her smile, happy with the reassurance that I still had friends and that Pansy's words did not leave a long-lasting dent on my reputation.

One look at Draco and my face fell.

I had caught him looking at me, and as soon as our eyes met, his smile turned into a scowl. He pulled Crabbe and Goyle to the farthest seat available, making it a point to turn away from me.

I sighed onto my plate.

"What were you about to say?" Daphne asked when everyone had settled down.

"I'll tell you later," I whispered, eyeing Blaise who was sitting on my other side.

She nodded.

After dinner, we went back to the common room to do our homework. Crabbe and Goyle rejoiced when I handed them my essay outline, Draco rolling his eyes next to them. I knew that most of them had their doubts about my blood status because of what Pansy had said, but I knew, too, that I was still the most _useful_ friend they had. That was enough for me to stall public persecution.

After an hour, I dragged Daphne up our room, eager to tell her what happened in the library without the other girls' listening ears.

"Cassius... Warrington..." Daphne said after I finished my story, brows furrowed.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, fake-swooning.

"But what about Draco?"

I frowned.

"What about Draco?"

"So, you really are just friends with him?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," I exclaimed exasperatedly. "I'm telling you Cassius Warrington approached me in the library and you're still on about me and Draco."

I plopped down on my bed, arms crossed.

"I just – you really are just friends with Draco?" she asked again, disbelief clear in her tone. She sat on her bed, crossed-leg, as she brushed her hair with her fingers.

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "I mean, we were. I don't really know if we still are."

"Really?" she asked again.

"Yes... I mean, Draco's a good friend–," I paused. "Sometimes – rarely–," I looked up in thought, "–nevermind... but can you imagine dating him?" I laughed.

"Hmm," she hummed. "Alright... I actually thought you were just in denial, but alright."

"Nope," I said. "Kind, considerate, and thoughtful are more my type."

"So, what did happen between you and Draco? Why aren't you talking to him?" she asked, moving to sit next to me.

"You're seriously not going to react to my Cassius stor–," I sighed. "Draco and I... had an argument."

"Alright... So when are you going to make up with him?" she asked, inspecting her fingernails nonchalantly.

"What makes you so sure _I_ will?"

She raised a quizzical brow, pointing at the gold pendant resting on my chest.

"Oh," I said. "I don't know."

"Seems like he got the shorter end of the stick," she noted.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, after he defended you so _valiantly,_ he's still not talking to Pansy, and for some reason, you're not talking to him either," she explained, shrugging.

A surge of guilt flooded through me, and I started to question whether this fighthad been my fault. He _did_ defend me, and I _did_ make him feel like I didn't appreciate it, and I _did_ get upset over a hypothetical question that hasn't even happened yet. **_But,_** he _was_ harsh, and –

My mind came up blank.

Later that night, I skimmed through the book Cassius showed me. Using my wand to illuminate the text, I read:

' _This book is to commemorate the lives lost during the–'_

Should I apologize tomorrow?

_'...not a comprehensive list of those who had–'_

What am I going to say?

_'...many unnamed Muggles were victim to–'_

I flipped to a random page.

_'Tara Dawkins, 33'_   
_'Caradoc Dearborn, 19'_   
_'Claudia Dolohov, 21'_   
_'Samuel Dooley, 54'_   
_'Erin Dyer, 41'_

Do I just... start talking to him in Transfiguration class? _Flip._

_'Dahlia Fairchild, 24'_   
_'Jeremy Flynn, 59'_   
_'Sierra Fordsons, 37'_   
_'Liana Fuller, 13'_

Do I knock on their room? _Flip._

_'Brandon Rowland, 23'_   
_'Sean Reinhart, 87'_   
_'Evan Rosier, 23'_

Do I corner him in the corridors? _Flip._

_'Anthony Warrington, 29'_   
_'Kiana Walsh, 72'_

Do I leave him a letter? _Flip._

_'Alexander Vandal, 60'_

Do I just talk to him over breakfast? _Flip._

_'Daniel Thomas, 26'_

Should I ask Blaise for help? _Flip._

_'Lily Potter, 21'_

My eyes stay on the name a few seconds longer than the rest. _Flip._

_'Arcadia Steele, 24'_

I closed the book shut, rubbing on my temples.

Sighing, I placed the book on my nightstand.

"Nox," I said, and I was enveloped in darkness.


	13. Firsts

Gasps echoed all throughout the Slytherin table the next day at breakfast. Everyone had their heads buried in their copies of the Daily Prophet. Filling the front page were ten black-and-white photographs, nine of them were of wizards and the tenth, of a witch. Each picture was captioned with a name and the list of crimes committed that had them sent to Azkaban.

**MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**

**MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS**

_Antonin Dolohov,_ read under the sneering photograph of a man with a long, pale, twisted face, _convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett._

The next: a bored-looking man with greasy hair. _Augustus Rockwood, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic Secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

My eyes scanned the page. _Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange,_ ** _Bellatrix Lestrange_** _._

My gaze fleeted to Draco who was sitting a few seats opposite from me, a newspaper in front of him. Just as quickly, my eyes dropped back down to the photograph. The woman had long, unruly, dark hair, and I was astonished as to how much she looked like Draco's mother... but _different_. I had only seen Narcissa Malfoy a handful of times in King's Cross, but each time, she looked so beautiful and tall that everyone couldn't help but stare. She had gorgeous blonde locks, heart-shaped lips, and a tall-pointed nose that she and her son shared.

I looked back up at Draco and his scowl had deepened as he glared at everybody who dared look at him. When he caught my eye, I hung my head back down.

_Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._

_Longbottom?_ Could it be–?

"Ava," Daphne whispered, wide-eyed. "Do you reckon Longbottom – the Gryffindor boy?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah..."

She brought her hand to her face in shock.

"I think I'm going to throw up," she said, all the color drained from her face.

All around me, people were whispering and sneaking glances at Draco. Everyone knew his relationship with Bellatrix Lestrange. _Bellatrix Lestrange_ , _neé Black,_ sister of _Narcissa Malfoy, neé Black,_ cousin to _Sirius Black_ , an Azkaban escapee who was convicted of thirteen counts of murder, now suspected as the "rallying point" of the recent breakout.

I thought back to our drunken night last Christmas Eve.

 _"We're expecting a lot of..._ ** _guests..._** " Draco said then.

Is that why he got drunk? Had he known?

Suddenly, an onslaught of owls descended on our table, dropping letter after letter.

I ripped mine open.

_ Ava, _

_ I'm sure by now you have read the news. Make sure you stay inside and with groups unless otherwise necessary. Write to me more often, alright? Your Aunt Lara and I are safe and in Amsterdam. I love you and stay safe. _

_ Eleanor _

"Mother's asking if I would feel safer at home," Daphne said, a letter in her hand. "Would I?"

"Dumbledore's here. I think we're safest here," I replied, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

"You're right."

Suddenly, and loudly, Draco stood up and stomped out the Great Hall, leaving Crabbe and Goyle. The two were wide-eyed for a few seconds... until a look of bone-chilling elation descended on their faces. Pansy was tight-lipped as she crowded with Millie and Tracey to read the article.

I looked around the room, and I almost laughed out loud at how increasingly oblivious the students looked the further their table was. Everyone in Slytherin has been made aware, and they either looked grave or elated. Next to us, the Ravenclaws looked like they were chatting and debating about the news, a handful of papers folded neatly in front of them. A few of the Hufflepuffs were still reading, eyes widening, then tapping on their friend's shoulder to share. On the farthest end, only Granger and the two boys looked like they knew, Potter seething with anger and all, while the rest of the Gryffindors laughed and giggled at whatever shallow topic of conversation they were having.

I finished my breakfast in silence, trying to come to terms with what I just read.

The next few days, all anyone could talk about were the ten escaped Death Eaters. There had been rumors that a few of them were spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were allegedly hiding out in the Shrieking Shack, and that they were planning on breaking into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had done.

I refused to admit it out loud, but part of me had been relieved by the sudden shift of conversation. No longer did I receive odd looks in the corridors, nor did I hear whispers of my namein the common room. Instead, they gossiped about the relatives of the victims. Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and most especially, _Harry Potter_. Just a few months ago, they were all so certain that Potter and Dumbledore had gone bonkers. They refused to believe that The Dark Lord had come back, but now, they're rethinking their adamant refusal to the only probable cause of all these _incidents._

Another thing to be grateful for: the spotlight of scrutiny had shifted from Draco to Potter. Despite this, I still haven't found an opportunity to talk to Draco. He was either glowering and sneering at any living being near him or surrounded by his Quidditch teammates. None of those choices were any at all appealing.

Meanwhile, in the dungeons, we talked as if there weren't anything amiss. Another unwritten rule of Slytherin House: we do not ask about our parents' secrets.

The morning after news broke out, Umbridge put up another notice.

––– BY ORDER OF –––

**The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts**

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six._

Signed:  
Dolores Jane Umbridge  
HIGH INQUISITOR

As expected, the news pushed Umbridge to scramble for even more control over Hogwarts. She has put Professor Trelawney and Hagrid on probation, and every one of their classes has been conducted under her supervision. After a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, she had matched my pace as we walked back up the castle.

"Miss Adara, is this your last class of the day?" Umbridge asked, her shrill voice making Daphne flinch.

"Yes, Professor. Can I help you with anything?" I asked, feigning enthusiasm.

"Would you like to have tea with me in my office?"

"I would love to, Professor."

Daphne's eyes widened slightly, but in a second, she had composed herself and was beaming at the mousy brown-haired woman.

"I'll tell you later," I whispered to Daphne before following Umbridge back into the castle and to her office.

As Umbridge was pouring the tea into our cups, she asked, "What do you think about your professors? Specifically Trelawney and Hagrid?"

I took a sip as soon as she finished and I grimaced from the heat. The liquid burned as it slid down my throat, but I needed to stall. I knew immediately that my next words could possibly get someone sacked and I quickly calculated which of the two professors needed the most protection. Trelawney, as weird and outspoken as she is, was still a wizard. Hagrid was not. Just from looking at him, he stood out like a sore thumb and I knew then that he would fare worse outside of Hogwarts.

I sent a silent apology to Trelawney, hoping that her _gift_ , if they even were true, could sense it.

"Professor Trelawney," I said, "as... _endearing_ as she is, is constantly spewing words and prophecies about death _,_ danger _,_ tragedy _..._ If I'm being completely honest, the students are already frightful enough as it is. Hearing those words from a supposedly trusted adult isn't... _good_ for our well-being."

Umbridge nodded enthusiastically, one hand under the bottom of her teacup and the other gripping the handle, the tea swooshing around by her sudden movements.

"Professor Hagrid, on the other hand," I continued, "is not the most... ideal... but so far, he's... _tolerable_."

Half an hour later, after listening to her complain about how much she despised Gryffindor house and how barbaric the Weasleys were and how she was certain Harry Potter and Dumbledore were planning something, I left her office feeling dejected, knowing that I possibly played a part in Professor Trelawney's suffering.

The rest of the week passed and most of us had been staying up till midnight because of the shocking amount of homework. It was only on Friday that everyone retreated to bed much earlier to catch up on some sleep. I sat on my bed, the _'Casualties of the Wizarding War'_ book in my hand as I waited for the others to fall into a deep slumber.

I haven't made much progress with my search. I was certain that if my parents were truly dead, their names would be there, but the pool was still too big for me to deduce which ones they were. I've made a list of names who had died in the year 1980 at the age of 18-40 but even then, I was left with around a hundred names. Then there was the possibility that they may not have been dead and I was willingly put up for adoption. Or the possibility that they had been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. Or–

The clock struck twelve.

I shut the book, carefully placing it under my pillow. I tiptoed out of the door, snuck out of the dungeons, and flew to the Quidditch pitch, holding on to the possibility that I could meet Draco there.

The sound of my wings flapping against the night air filled my ears, muffling the thud of my pulse. I had been planning this for days, sick of waiting to catch him by himself walking down the corridors or sitting by the fireplace in the common room. If I had gone with that plan, all the snow would have melted off the ground before I even had the chance to talk to him again.

Lo and behold, there he was. Flying on his broomstick just like I thought.

I've memorized everything I had to say, down to the smallest detail, yet one look on his face and my words got stuck in my throat. As soon as I transformed myself back into human form, he descended, a scowl plastered on his face. He stormed towards me, glaring at me intensely, so much so that I stumbled backward in fright.

As soon as he was close enough, he grabbed me by my wrist, pulling me towards him.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing outside?" he snarled, looking around the darkness behind me. "It's dark out and there are literal _killers_ on the loose."

"But you're here," I said. "I wouldn't have gone out if I hadn't thought you'd be here."

His hand gripped my wrist tightly, and we were so close. So close that my forehead was only a few inches away from his chest. He was wearing a forest green knitted jumper and he looked so... comfortable and warm and I – _I've missed him_. Missed him so much that I felt the sudden urge to bury my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck. And I almost did.

But then I looked up at his eyes and he looked down on mine, and something snapped. It was as if a spell had been broken, making us jump back almost simultaneously.

"What are you doing here?" Draco sneered, averting his eyes to the broomstick he was carrying.

"Draco, I'm sorry," I blurted out, looking down at the grass. "I'm sorry for lashing out on you. I was just upset and I didn't mean to make you feel like I didn't appreciate what you did because I do and you didn't deserve the way I – I'm sorry."

I stared at the ground, waiting for a response, but it didn't come. It was so quiet that I had thought he had left or maybe my brain was playing tricks on me and he was never even truly there, but when I looked up, he was staring at me. His eyes had softened, and gone was the glare he'd worn for days.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

With furrowed brows, he nodded slowly.

We stood there awkwardly, and I waited for him to say something but I was met with even more silence.

"I've missed you," I said to fill up the quiet, pouting jokingly.

He tensed, clenching his jaw.

I quickly added, "Platonically." I rolled my eyes.

He huffed a small smile.

"And you missed me too?" I teased.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Adara," he finally spoke, rolling his eyes. He ducked his head, but I caught a glimpse of a smile, and that was enough to answer my question.

"And," I hesitated, "...you're sorry too?"

His eyes turned steely as he crossed his arms.

"For being harsh and all," I continued.

He looked straight behind me, his lips pursed tight.

"You don't have to say it, Draco. A simple nod is enough for me," I added, exasperation stiffening my tone.

His nose turned up in disdain, but he nodded anyway. Halfheartedly, but _still_. Like I said, _it was enough for me._

"Catch me?" I said, grinning as I walked backward.

The glimmer in his eyes signaled that he was taking up the challenge. In a flash, we were both in the air and it was as though nothing had changed.

After an hour or so, we walked back to the castle. I told him all about what I've been up to the past week and he had such an inscrutable look on his face, I wasn't sure if he was even listening. Still, I was surprised he hadn't asked me to shut up, so I took for granted this rare occasion of Draco Malfoy willingly listening to my stories.

"...and I'd been reading this book...," I faltered, "that I _found_ in the library. They have a list of all those who died in the war. I've narrowed it down to around a hundred names but even then... what if my parents weren't dead and they really did just give me away like Pansy said. Or maybe they were Muggles and–"

"Adara," he said stiffly. "I told you. You're not a _mudblood._ If you had just let me think, this would have–"

"Are you still on about that? I told you–"

"Just listen," he interrupted, "I thought about it, alright? Number one," he said, putting one finger up, "it's very rare for the Sorting Hat to put a _mudblood_ in Slytherin–"

"Yes, but not impossible."

"Let me finish," he demanded, glaring.

"Okay, sorry," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around myself.

He dropped his glare.

"Number two, if you were, why would you be adopted to a magical family? You should have been put in a Muggle orphanage, or something. Worst case scenario, you're a half-blood," he said. "It's not ideal, but I could live with that."

I froze.

 _I was adopted._ Adopted meaningsomeone must have supervised the process. I had been so focused on the giving and the receiving ends of the adoption that I failed to take into consideration the middle man. But who? Who would know? Dumbledore? The Ministry? Umbridge? Does Eleanor know? Then that would mean they've been lying to me for years. They've always said they didn't. How could they not? It's not as if they picked me up from the street or anything. Did they? They couldn't have. It's too big of a coincidence. Are wizards allowed to adopt a Muggle child? _Was_ it just a coincidence? Surely that was a breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? Is it?

Draco's words have pushed me down a rabbit hole of questions, and I had no idea how to get out.

"...I mean, my favorite professor is a half-blood and my father has no qualms about that. They're even friends. So, as long as I don't–" He waved his hands in front of my face. "Adara?"

"Someone must know," I whispered.

"What?"

"Someone must know who my parents were," I said louder. "Or _are._ I don't know. But like you said, I wouldn't have been adopted to a magical family if I weren't from magical parents _meaning_ someone found me – or took me – and someone was overseeing all of it."

His brows were furrowed, but he was nodding.

"Do you... happen to know who's in charge of situations like that?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Dumbledore?"

"Is he–?"

" _Draco!_ " A shrill voice said from behind me. Draco grabbed my wrist once more, pulling me behind him and raising his wand. I followed suit, pointing my black wand in the direction of the sound. I squinted in the darkness.

My heart started beating out of my chest as I imagined Bellatrix Lestrange sauntering towards us, off to pick up her dearest nephew.

What I saw flooded me with relief for a second, then panic settled back in.

_Professor McGonagall._

She had on a tartan bathrobe, her hair out of their usual bun and flowing down her shoulders. She looked between me and Draco, and then his hand around my wrist.

He dropped my hand immediately.

"Adara," Draco said sternly, facing me, "like I said, you shouldn't be out past curfew. As your prefect, I'm going to have to give you detention."

I gaped at him.

" _Miss_ Adara, _Mister_ Malfoy. _Detention_ for the both of you!" Professor McGonagall chided, wrapping her arms around herself. "Do you even know what time it is? Fifty points from Slytherin!"

Draco winced at her tone.

She huffed towards us, grabbing both of us by the arm and pulling us back up the castle.

"I shall see Professor Snape about the two of you! I certainly expected more from you, Adara... Go back to your dormitories and see me in my office first thing in the morning!"

Once we were back in the dungeons, I slapped Draco on the arm, earning myself another glare.

"You were going to sell me out!" I huffed.

He laughed loudly. So loud, I worried he'd wake up the others.

"The look... on... your... face...," he wheezed in between laughter.

I glared at him.

"It's not funny," I complained.

He responded by laughing even more. I rolled my eyes.

"No, seriously, I've never had detention before... My record's been clean and now–"

He slowed, chuckling as he wiped a tear on the corner of his eye.

"Really? Never?" he asked, amused.

I shook my head.

"I'm taking a lot of your firsts, huh, Adara?"

My eyes widened and I felt the blood rush through my cheeks.

Just like that, the notorious Draco Malfoy smirk was back.


	14. Detention

Daphne refused to talk to me. After the events of last night, I expected to trudge to Professor McGonagall's office this morning with Draco to await punishment. What I failed to foresee was the moment the Slytherins walked past the hourglass that recorded the House points, the sight earning their groans and eye rolls. As frustrated as they were, no one bothered questioning who the culprit was (or in our case, were) since no one ever admits to anything around here. Still, Draco and I hung our head low during breakfast, not wanting to be persecuted because of our late night stint.

Then I messed up.

I had been telling Daphne a modified version of last night's events and how Draco and I made up. I told her I apologized earlier today, over breakfast, when she was still in our room. She listened with a bored expression on her face as she played with the bacon on her plate with her fork, almost as if I merely told her that the sun rose this morning.

Draco had gone back to the common room after eating and we agreed to meet in the Middle Courtyard before 8:30 so that we can walk to Professor McGonagall's office together. When the clock struck eight, I stood up from my seat, letting it slip to Daphne that Draco and I got detention.

Something clicked _._ I could see the shift in her expression when she realized what I was saying, and my eyes went round when I realized what _she_ realized.

"You and Draco... got detention..." Daphne drawled out, her eyes going cold.

I took a deep breath.

"Should I ask what for or are you just going to _lie_ to me again?"

"Daphne..."

"I knew it," she said, a sarcastic laugh escaping her lips.

"It's not like that..."

"Have you or have you not been lying to me for months?" she asked, eerily calm.

"I hav–"

"Well, of course, you can answer that question, but I'm not sure I'll believe you."

"Daphne, please... You don't underst–"

"Please? I've been asking you, Ava. Over and over again. You _promised_ you wouldn't lie to me."

"I know, but–"

"Were you or were you not caught past curfew with Draco?" Her tone was angry, but her voice dropped low so that only I could hear.

I averted my eyes.

"I was, but..."

"Are you or are you not seeing him?"

"I'm not, Daphne. I swear–"

"It's one thing for you to hide it from me. It's another for you to lie to me _over and over again._ I don't know why you even felt the _need_ to hide it–"

"But I'm really not, Daphne. I've lied, yes, but not about that."

"Then what _have_ you been lying about?"

She looked at me expectantly, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

"I – I can't tell you."

There was a faint sound of a closed-mouthed scoff. She opened her mouth, on the verge of saying something, but then she closed it just as quickly, her eyes dropping in defeat. With a sigh, she pursed her lips, stood up, and walked away.

I stood there, staring at the empty high-backed chair on the far end of the Great Hall. Fists balled and eyes stinging.

I walked towards the Middle Courtyard with my nails digging into the palms of my hands. I chewed on the inside of my lower lip, frantically going through the possible solutions in my head.

I _could_ tell Daphne, but as much as I trusted her, humans are still humans. Still capable of error. Even if she intended to keep my secret, which I'm sure she would, Firewhiskey and Veritaserum exist. Legilimency exists. It was for those reasons that I _never_ wanted anyone to know. A secret is only a secret if only _I_ knew. Once another person is in, it's out of my hands... unless they're willing to make the Unbreakable Vow like Eleanor had, but I couldn't burden her with that. I couldn't burden Draco with that. I can't, in good conscience, loom the prospect of _death_ in front of their faces just so I could get the assurance that my secret is safe.

Even if I wanted to, I was certain Draco wouldn't agree to it.

I had been certain enough of my place in his life. I've succeeded with my mission. He regarded me as a friend, but even if so, there were still too many loose threads. I still had to tread lightly. I still had to watch the small quirks of his eyebrow, the gentle furrows on his forehead, the slight curls of his lip. I _still_ had to watch him carefully, and I _still_ had to act accordingly. On his good days, I could let my guard down and just be... me. On others, it was like walking on a minefield. Admittedly, there had been moments when I had forgotten completely. There had been moments when I had let myself dangle off a cliff, dangerously close to getting pushed off the edge. In spite of how cautious I've been, he had his way with people's emotions. And I fell victim.

I dug my nails deeper.

I walked to where Draco stood, leaning against a tree as he read a book.

He was glaring at me as soon as he caught sight of my presence.

"I've been waiting," he said, irritated.

"Sorry," I muttered absentmindedly.

He frowned.

We walked to Professor McGonagall's office in silence.

"Miss Adara, Mister Malfoy, take a seat," she said as soon as we were inside.

We sat on the chairs in front of her desk, nervously awaiting our punishment. Well, Iwas nervous. Draco didn't seem the littlest bit bothered.

"Biscuit?" she said, offering a plate.

I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Thank you, but we just ate breakfast," I said.

She nodded promptly.

"Typically, it should be the Head of House talking to you right now, but due to the... _nature_ of your circumstance, Professor Snape has asked me to... _handle_ it."

I tilted my head in confusion. My eyes fleeted to Draco and he, too, looked confused.

"I understand that–," she struggled to find her words, "–there are _changes_ happening to your bodies. These changes are completely _normal_ and – and – and – oh, for Merlin's sake, this topic should be a part of the curriculum!"

She cleared her throat, looking between me and Draco awkwardly.

"What I'm trying to say is... it is perfectly _normal_ to have certain _urges_. Especially at your age! But it's also important that the two of you are _safe._ As much as we would prefer for students to not engage in those _activities_ here in school _,_ there's only so much we can do – the enchantments in the castle and whatnot. What's important is that the two of you have the information you both need so that we can _avoid_ any... unwanted _incidents._ I have taken the liberty to schedule a talk for the both of you with Madam Pomfrey so that–"

"Professor," I squeaked. "You've got it all wrong. We're not – we didn't–" I faltered. I brought my hand to my temple to shield my face away from Draco. My face felt warm to the touch, and all I wanted at that moment was for someone to perform the Vanishing Spell on _me._

"That really won't be necessary, Professor. Ava and I... are just friends. It's not what–"

"Oh..." Professor McGonagall said. "Oh!" She brought her hand to her mouth in shock. "My sincerest apologies to the both of you. It was wrong of me to assume. It's just – you wouldn't know just how many students I've caught–," she paused, straightening her blouse with both of her hands. "Whatever your reason may be, it is unsafe for children like the two of you to be outside during the dark. Especially now that–," Professor McGonagall looked at Draco warily, "–there are criminals wandering about."

I nodded curtly, eager to get out of her office.

"Here are your detention slips," she said, handing each of us a square piece of parchment.

_STUDENT'S NAME: Ava Adara_   
_DATE OF INCIDENT: January 19, 1996_   
_YEAR GROUP: 5th_   
_TEACHER: Professor McGonagall_   
_REASON FOR DETENTION: Caught outside the castle past curfew._   
_PUNISHMENT: Organize and catalogue books in the library – no magic._

"Very well then. Off you go!"

With a polite nod, I hurried out the door, wanting to put as much space between Draco and me.

"What a load of bollocks, huh?" Draco said, catching up to my stride.

I walked faster.

"Mhm."

"And what good would Madam Pomfrey do?" He chuckled. "It's not like she can teach me something I don't already know."

I gaped at him, eyes wide, prompting him to laugh.

"Merlin, Adara. You don't know how much I enjoy making you squirm," he said, very much amused.

I glared at him, walking even faster.

He grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop and turn. Without realizing it, he's cornered me into a corner, placing both his hands on the walls beside my head.

"Don't walk away from me," he threatened, his voice dropping low.

He looked down at me with his silver eyes, and I was suddenly very much aware of the distance, or the lack thereof, between us. I held my breath.

A slow smile curled across his lips.

"You make it so easy."

I rolled my eyes.

"That – that is why no one ever believes we're just friends," I huffed, escaping through the small space between his hand and his shoulder.

He laughed pompously.

"Not my problem though, is it?"

I ignored him, continuing my haste towards the library.

"Where are you going? The hospital wing's the other way," he called out.

I turned, brows furrowed.

"Hospital wing? You mean library..."

"What?" he said, approaching me. He took the slip from my hand, his eyes sharpening as he read through it. "Is she kidding? I have to scrub bedpans while all you have to do is stack and restack books?"

I let out a soft laugh.

"Here's the thing, Draco–," I put a hand on his shoulder, "–if you're nice to people, they tend to be nice back."

He glared at me as I walked backward.

"See you later," I said, waving languidly.

As soon as I was alone with my thoughts, my mind circled back to Daphne, my shoulders slumping down dejectedly. I _could_ just lie to her again. Just tell her that Draco and I are _indeed_ dating. That she had been right all along. But then that would cause more problems than it would fix. _Pansy._ His parents. _Eleanor._ And it's not as if he'd actually agree to fake a relationship just for my sake. That's definitely off the table.

I could continue making excuses, but I'm sure at this point, she would need viable evidence.

The only other option I could think of was to just let our friendship die. Daphne who has been my best friend since I was eleven. Daphne who was key to my survival in Slytherin. Daphne who has always protected me. Just let it die.

 _Surely_ , I could think of another way.

And so I thought. I thought and I thought and I thought. Walking to the library. _Daphne._ Handing the detention slip to the librarian. _Secret._ Walking through the shelves. _Lie._ Writing down a list of titles and authors. _Best_ _Friend._ Climbing up a ladder. _Draco._ Climbing down a ladder. _Bird._ Carrying piles of books to the other side of the library. _Azkaban._ Picking up strewn books on vacated tables. _Can't._ Writing another list of titles and authors. _Die._ Climbing another ladder–

"Ava!"

I looked down.

Cassius looked up at me, his arms crossed against his chest and a bright grin on his face.

"Hi," I whispered, smiling.

"Haven't seen you around here in a while," he said, offering his hand as I climbed down the ladder. I took it, a tad bit too eager.

"Just – busy." I plopped down on the floor.

"Made any progress? With your search, I mean." He played with my fingers, grazing the pad of his thumb against my knuckles.

"Slight. I've reduced it to a list of around... a hundred."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," I hummed. "And you? How have you been?"

He shook his head, pouting jokingly.

"Prep for N.E.W.T.s is killing me. Binns is the absolute worst. One more essay, and I'll drown myself in the Black Lake." He laughed. He turned my hand, palm facing up and he traced the lines across them with his thumb.

"If I could help you in any way I can," I said, putting my other hand on his upper arm, "just let me know. I owe you."

"Well–," he entwined his fingers between mine, his smirk growing twice its size, "–since you _owe_ me, I was wondering... we have another Hogsmeade visit – on February 14. Mind grabbing a bite with me? I'd love to get to know you better."

He peered up at me from underneath his eyelashes, and I was certain he could make up the flush on my cheeks.

"Hmm," I bluffed, "I'm going to have to check my calendar."

"Would you now?"

I laughed. "No, I – I'd love to."

He ducked his head, a huge grin growing on his face.

"Thank you," he said earnestly, "for saying yes."

"Oh," I said, shock evident in my tone. "That's not – that's not a problem." I chuckled.

He nodded, still grinning from ear to ear.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked, letting go of my hand.

"Detention, actually."

"Ava Adara. Detention. Doesn't add up, doesn't it?"

"Ah." I laughed. "Well, there's a first time for everything, I guess."

"Let me help you then."

I finished my work much earlier than I anticipated. Cassius and I spent the remainder of the afternoon going through book after book, forcing me to push Daphne off my mind for a few hours. He refused to let me climb the ladders, insisting he took on the bulk of the work. He'd sneak a few touches here and there, a hand on my waist when he needed me to move, tucking strands of hair behind my ear, squeezing my shoulders for no apparent reason. And he didn't even glare at me. Not even once. No snarky remarks or insulting comments. I had spent so much time with Draco, I almost forgot how decent boys acted.

He was so refreshingly _nice._ We walked to the dungeons together, and he talked so freely about his friends, Quidditch, his family, and by the time we reached the stone door, it had felt like we've known each other for years. I had told him stories about Aster and Eleanor, and he listened so intently, I couldn't hide the shock on my face when he offered replies at the right moments. He laughed and gently tapped me on the nose when he noticed.

He retreated up to his dormitory and me to mine. I spent the rest of the day finishing homework, Daphne and the other girls nowhere to be seen. Not before long, dinner passed and Daphne still refused to even acknowledge my existence. I sat between Draco and Blaise, the two boys practically talking over me every chance they get. I ate the roast chicken in silence, the chatter of the Great Hall background to the incessant worrying in my head. After dinner, Draco tried to coerce me into another practice session.

"We just got detention! Surely you can wait at least a week just to be safe," I argued.

"The Ravenclaw match is next month. I can't afford to lose. You know that."

"But Professor McGonagall–"

"...won't even know we're there. The only reason why we got caught is because we stayed too long near the castle. Barely anyone ever checks as far as the Quidditch Pitch."

"But–"

"Trust me?"

I looked at him fiercely, my arms crossed. He stared back with equal tenacity, and I knew then he was just indulging me. There was no way he was going to let me say no. With a sigh, I gave him a begrudging nod.

And so there I was. Out past midnight. The usual.

It was half-past 12 and we sat in one of the spectator stands after a round of Quidditch. He chugged his water bottle, sweat dripping from his forehead and down the furrows between his eyebrows as he listened to my chatter.

"...and Daphne still won't talk to me and I just don't know what to do which doesn't happen very often I usually know what to do but how could I know I can't just let our friendship end like that but I can't exactly tell her either and I just don't know how–"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, just tell her the truth. I'm sick of hearing you rambling on and on and on and on and on and–"

I frowned.

"I'll just shut up then." I turned away from him, rolling my eyes.

I heard him sigh.

"No, but seriously. Just tell Daphne. She's been your best friend for years. Your secret is far safer with her than it is with me, and look – you've survived four months with me and you're still not in Azkaban, aren't you? If you can trust _me_ enough then surely, you can trust Daphne."

_It's not about trust._

"You're right," I said instead.

Then a thought entered my mind.

"Oh, and I've been meaning to tell you. You know Cassius? Warrington? He's your friend, right? He – he sort of asked me... to go to Hogsmeade with him... for – for Valentines..."

He stilled.

"Warrington? _My_ teammate Warrington?"

I nodded.

"I didn't know you knew each other," he said, looking ahead vacantly.

"We _knew_ of each other, but we met recently."

"And what does he want with you?"

"He said he wants to get to know me better?"

He scoffed.

"Now that you've got my _stamp of approval_ , every guy suddenly wants to be your friend."

I stared at him, unblinking.

"St-stamp of approval?" I questioned, shock evident on my face.

"Yeah."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah," he replied, matter-of-factly.

I gaped at him.

"I–," I stammered. I balled my hands into fists, taking deep breaths in futile attempts to calm the rising anger. "Am I," I said calmly, "some piece of _meat,"_ my voice went up a fraction, "that needs _your_ stamp of approval?!"

He flinched.

"That's not what I meant–"

" _Thank you_ so much, your highness! Thanks to you, people now desire my company. How would I _ever_ repay you?"

With my wand to my chest, I jumped off the spectator stand, earning a gasp from Draco. Before I hit the ground, my limbs turned to wings and I flew away.

Away from that _foul_ and _demeaning_ human being.

Anger ripped through me, my heart beating out of my chest. It took all of my willpower not to go back down and yell at him. His lack of sensitivity and selfish disdain for others comes at no surprise, but for more than five years, I had worked to make sure I was never the subject of his torments. Despite all of that, despite all of my efforts, he still managed to make me feel _humiliated._ His talent for being a complete arse was unparalleled, it was almost admirable.

And the implication that I was undesirable before we became _friends_ felt like ripping a bandage from an unhealed wound. _Orphan. Dead uncle. Mudblood._ And now: _undesirable._

A lump was forming on the back of my throat. I took a deep breath, letting the cool midnight air enter my lungs, forcing me to focus on the physical discomfort rather than the pang in my chest _._

I _cannot_ cry in front of Draco Malfoy again.

I flew over the Deep Lake, much further than where Draco and I would usually practice, so it took me by surprise when I heard someone yell, "Adara!"

Draco was tailing behind me.

"Is this Ava? _Merlin,_ if it's just another bird I'll – Well, if it is, you need to come down and talk to me."

 _Need to._ I didn't _need_ to do anything.

Despite my rising anger, I still didn't want to get in trouble, and flying over the Deep Lake might get him and, by association, me caught. As much as I enjoyed detention with Cassius, I needed a fairly clean record for Aurorship, and no boy is cute enough to sacrifice that.

I circled back to the Quidditch pitch, Draco following suit. As I neared the ground, I transfigured back into my human form.

I ran back to the castle.

"Adara!" Draco called from behind me. I heard the thump of a broomstick being thrown on the ground, and soon after, footsteps. I ignored him. As I was about to exit the Quidditch pitch, Draco caught up to me. He grabbed my arm and spun me to face him.

"Why are you angry?" His brows were furrowed and he was panting, his chest rising almost simultaneously to the thud of my pulse.

I glared at him.

"Do you really not know?"

"If I knew, do you think I'd ask?" He glared at me.

I sighed.

"You shouldn't say things like that," I said with gritted teeth, trying to tap into the little remnants of patience left in my body.

"...Why?"

"Because it's _rude_ and _hurtful_ and–"

"Isn't it true though?"

I stared at him incredulously, trying to scan his face for any sign that he was joking with me, but he genuinely did look oblivious. I fought back the urge to stomp away again.

"You said it yourself. You're an orphan. Being an Adara offered you protection, and somehow, status. Being my friend does the exact same thing, does it not?"

I stayed still for a moment as a battle ensued in my mind. A part of me wanted to slap him across the face for even insinuating what he was outright stating. A stronger part of me was downright resigned. Tired.

I rubbed my hand on my temples. " _Yeah, okay."_

"Did you say yes?"

I tilted my head, brows furrowing.

"To Warrington's invitation," he added.

"I did."

"Take it back."

I blinked. _"What?"_

"Tell him you won't go."

"And why would I do that?" I snapped, the dying frustration regaining fire.

"Because I don't want you to." He crossed his arms over his chest tightly, raising his eyebrows at me as if I were a servant talking back.

"And who are _you_ to tell me what I can and cannot do?" I spat, taking a step forward.

"You're my–," he said. "My–"

"What?" I hissed. "You have no say, Draco. _None._ "

The muscles on his jaw rippled. He stared stoically behind me.

_"Alright then."_


	15. Birthday

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Armenia – Joan Thiele_

We flew back to the castle in silence. After the ordeal, Draco's mood shifted drastically. He was torturously silent for the rest of the hour, void of laughter and taunting remarks. When he decided he was finished practicing, he simply flew away without a word of warning, just the assumption that I would follow him like sheep to shepherd.

It was a well-known fact that Draco was weirdly possessive over anything he owned. He believed the glory of being the best Seeker of our year was his, and he took great offense in Potter's existence because the boy " _stole"_ it from him. All of his belongings, be it a book, a quill, or his broomstick, was only _his_ to touch. Even Crabbe and Goyle were expected to show him _unwavering_ loyalty.

In my panic and desperation to protect my secret, I failed to take into consideration that by offering myself as _his_ Golden Snitch, and as _his_ friend, I would somehow _belong_ to him. Another possession no one else could hold.

The thought infuriated me.

I refused to be reduced to my functionality. I was not just another crony he can keep on a leash to be at his beck-and-call. I was not something he can use and then tuck away somewhere no one else can reach. Just thinking about it made me want to run away as far as I could.

But no matter how much I wanted to distance myself, I was shackled by my secret.

Then again, maybe it was his possessiveness that kept my secret safe. He was incredibly adamant to steal back the glory from Potter. All his belongings were always in pristine condition. And he's gone to great lengths to keep Crabbe and Goyle away from the consequences of all the trouble they cause.

I swooped low to the front of the giant oak doors where Draco stood, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his foot tapping a staccato rhythm against the stone steps. Feathers turned to skin, beak to mouth, and crows to feet.

He looked at me blankly, lips pursed and eyes cold.

"Draco," I whispered. "I–"

" _Bird_ ," I heard someone gasp.

I snapped my head to the sound, my heart hammering against my chest.

Daphne stood behind the bushes next to the stairs leading up to the castle. Her wrinkled silk robe fell down her shoulders, her sleeping braids disheveled as she stared at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"What are you doing here?" I yelped, staggering back. I hit Draco's chest and he put a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

"You – you – you – bird?!" She slapped a hand to her mouth.

"Shh!"

"Problem solved then," Draco muttered icily as he entered the castle, leaving me and Daphne behind in shock.

"Daphne, what are you doing here?" There was a piercing accusatory tone in my voice.

She frowned, her eyes sharpening.

"Malfoy knew?! Before _I_ did?"

"Daphne. What. Are. You. Doing. Here."

"Wha – I don't – How can you–"

I sighed, exasperated.

"Daphne–"

"BIRD?" Her voice was shrill as her arms flailed around wildly, bewildered by her discovery.

I grabbed her by the elbow, leading her into the castle and down the dungeons. All the while, her eyes were wide in shock and she stared vacantly in front of her, seemingly lost in thought. There was an unpleasant sensation on the pits of my stomach, the sound of her shoes clicking on the floor the only thing keeping me grounded.

Once the stone wall shifted back into place, she turned to me, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"I–," I said. "I don't know where to start."

"Bird?"

"I am." I sighed. "Animagus."

She dragged me to the sofa, and with a flick of her wand, she ignited the candles in front of us. The room bloomed with the soft orange of the fire.

"Since when?"

"When Aster died. Just a few weeks after."

Her eyes softened. She put a hand on mine consolingly.

"Draco?"

"He caught me back in September and I've been helping him practice Quidditch since."

"Why were you hiding it in the first place?" She leaned forward, her brows furrowing.

"I'm unregistered."

Her eyes went round again. "Ava, that's a year in Azkaban..."

"I know." I took a deep breath. "Aster said..."

She nodded, her lips pursing into a doleful smile. "Still 'Aster says, Ava do'?"

"Always."

The lump in my throat came fierce and abrupt, giving me no time to compose myself. In an instant, tears were streaking down my cheeks, a faint whimper escaping my lips. I brought my hands to my face in an attempt to stop the onslaught of tears.

"Oh, Ava," Daphne said, patting me on the back.

I was tired _._ Everything was just so overwhelming. Draco. Daphne. Cassius. Aster. Pansy. My parents. Detention. O.W.L.s. Azkaban. _Everything._ And now another person knows my secret, if I could still even call it that. My autonomy over myself was slowly slipping through my fingers, and no matter how hard I scrambled for it, the universe just kept on ripping it away from me.

I wanted it to be my decision. For once, I wanted to take control. I wanted to decide whether or not I tell Daphne. As much as I loved her, there was a growing bitterness I couldn't seem to placate. My mind knew she wasn't to blame, but my heart resented that she took away my choice. Resented Draco for the exact same reason. Resented Aster – may he rest in peace – for not giving me a better reason to not be a law-abiding witch, so that at least – at the _very_ least – I could sleep with the knowledge that all this mess would have been for something worthy.

Just like always: I had no choice. No choice but to extinguish whatever resentment I felt for my best friend, for Draco, and for the dead. No choice but to accept whatever the universe threw at me, and _just_ – do my best to stay standing.

I've always craved the freedom of birds but ever since becoming one, I have been nothing but caged.

"Has Malfoy been blackmailing you?" Daphne whispered suddenly.

I breathed out a sigh as I wiped the tears off my face.

"No." I sniffled. "I handled it."

"What does that mean?" She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head.

I brought my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on top.

"I... made myself _important._ "

Her eyes widened, lips parting in a silent gasp.

"What did you do?" She looked at me, petrified, and when I realized what she was thinking, my eyes mirrored hers.

"No," I shook my head wildly. "Nothing like _that_. Just – _friendship_."

"So, you really weren't lying?" she asked, but her tone was flat and it came out sounding more like a statement than a question.

"I was, but like I said, not about that."

"Thank _Merlin,_ I didn't want to say anything because you know – trying to be supportive and all that–," she laughed, "–but you deserve so much better than Draco."

I forced a small smile.

"What were you doing outside?" I asked.

"I'm nosey." She smiled sheepishly. "I really thought you were just lying to me about dating Draco and then I woke up in the middle of the night and I checked your bed and you weren't there so..."

I frowned. I always made sure to pull my bed's curtain shut before I snuck out. Her admission felt like an invasion of privacy, and the unsettled feeling in my stomach rose up yet again.

I said nothing about it.

"Well... even if I wanted to date him, he's made it clear he's not interested in me," I muttered in an attempt to divert the conversation.

"And you're sure you don't want to?" She quirked her eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes.

I rolled my eyes.

"I have a date with Cassius Warrington."

She gaped at me.

"We didn't talk for _one day!_ " She shook her head in disbelief.

"Yeah, well." I shrugged jokingly.

She rolled her eyes.

"As much as I'd love to listen to your romantic escapades–," she yawned, "–I am tired. But you need to tell me everything tomorrow."

So I did. I told her everything I couldn't tell her for the past four months. From the night Draco hit me with _descendo_ until the day of our detention. Except – I didn't tell her about the night with the Firewhiskey. And I glossed over the night in the hospital wing. And I didn't even touch on the many nights in between.

I realized that Draco's possessiveness had rubbed off on me. Like a mother clinging to a newborn child, I kept those small moments selfishly to myself. There wasn't a lot left that was purely mine, but those memories were, and if I didn't hold on to them tightly, someone would rip them away from me too.

Time passed. Draco had been distant. Cold. Breakfast was eaten in silence despite my attempts at making him smile. _"Just tired,"_ he said when I asked if anything was wrong. He barely talked to me in Transfiguration, just enough to keep the facade of friendship and civility, but not enough for me to actually believe it. Nights in the Quidditch pitch were severely professional, as if I were merely rendering a service to a client.

Daphne had been pushing me to spend more time in the library. She had documented exactly when Cassius would go there to study, and as soon as the bell rang for our last class of the day, she would drag me outside the library doors. Her hands would brush through my hair in an attempt to make me look as presentable as I could be and with a reminder to smile, she'd shove me through the entrance.

Each time, I was greeted with a welcoming grin. We would spend hours sitting together, him studying while I went through old newspapers, history books, and whatnot, cross-referencing to the list I made for any lead as to who my parents could be. He grew increasingly sweet. His fingers gently tapping on my back as we read next to each other, absentmindedly playing with my hair, relentlessly opening each door we passed through.

By the time my birthday came, he enveloped me in a hug in front of everyone in the common room, lifting my feet off the ground. This earned teasing grunts and cheers from his friends and mine, simultaneously shouting their greetings and drowning out the loud music. The clock had just struck midnight and all around us, students sprawled on the sofas and chairs, Firewhiskey and snacks in hand, the others jumping and dancing to the beat of the song. Fluorescent fuschia, neon green, flaming orange, blood red, bright yellow, and plenty other colors flashed across my eyes. And as Slytherins go, everyone was dressed to the nines.

Under a deep v-neck pleated black dress, I wore a mesh blouse lined with leather by the collar and the sleeves. My waist was cinched with a black leather belt, complementing the sheer black thigh-high socks I had on. Everyone in my house was dressed in something similar, silk and fur and velvet sprinkled across the room while the rest of our guests were cladded in plain cotton and polyester.

I looked up at Cassius as he set me down.

"Happy birthday," he mouthed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Thank you." I huffed a smile, the thud of the bass vibrating across my chest.

Daphne appeared by my side, grinning wildly as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

"Happy birthday," she sang, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"Greengrass! Happy birthday to you too," Cassius chimed.

"Thanks," she said, chuckling.

Daphne and I were born a day apart, much to the surprise of our 11-year-old selves. She was born on January 31st, just a day before me. Since then, we've always had a joint birthday celebration. As the Greengrasses go, the parties were always extravagant. Her mother had sent an enormous box of food and snacks while the boys from the Quidditch team offered the alcohol they've managed to smuggle in past Filch. The rest casted spells all over the common room: a Silencing Charm to combat the blare of the loud music _,_ an Age Line charm so that no one above the age of 18 can enter, _Lumos Colorem_ on our wands so that it would illuminate the room in a variety of strobing colors, among others. The first two were practically useless since our Head of House always turned a blind eye on parties – under the condition that they were strictly for someone's birthday and it was held during the celebrant's date of birth. It was precisely for this reason that Daphne and I's birthday was a much-awaited event. All the other parties ended at exactly midnight, all the food, drinks, and music disappearing due to an advanced charm Professor Snape had in place. This was the one night in our year when they could party until the wee hours of the morning, and they intended to make the most of it.

I caught Draco's gaze from behind Cassius' shoulder. He wore an intimidating scowl as he glared at Cassius' back, his elbow resting on his knees. With a roll of his eyes, he gulped down a bottle of Firewhiskey. He then leaned back and turned to this Ravenclaw girl sitting next to him. His fingers brushed away wisps of her hair, smirking and eyeing her playfully, mouthing inscrutable words from where I stood. A second after, he leaned in and _kissed_ her.

Kissedher. During _my_ birthday. When he hasn't even greeted _me_.

Anger bubbled up inside my chest, prompting me to scoff loudly.

"Is everything alright?" Cassius asked, his brows furrowed in worry.

I gulped down the chagrin, forcing a smile.

"Yeah." I grinned up at him, wrapping my hand around his.

Daphne had skipped towards a few of our other guests, a group of Hufflepuffs I didn't know the names of. I let Cassius lead me to one of the sofas, downing the spiked Butterbeer as I stumbled after him. I made my way to sit next to him, but he pulled my hand gently and I fell onto his lap. He laughed, the warmth of his breath against my neck sending goosebumps down my spine. With a heedless toss, I discarded the empty cup, not caring where it landed or who it hit.

"You look really beautiful tonight," he whispered against my ear. He rested his chin on my shoulder and when I turned to look at him, he kissed my cheek.

"Thank you," I said, smiling. Across the room, Draco had a hand nestled on the girl's waist as he deepened the kiss. Clenching my jaw, I readjusted my position on Cassius' lap, sitting side-saddle as I wrapped my arm around his neck. He smiled triumphantly as he offered the bottle of Firewhiskey.

I chugged it down, ignoring the burning against my throat. After the month I've had, I deserved at least this.

 _Keep out of trouble,_ Aster said.

I shoved the thought off my mind.

_You're dead. You left me to deal with all of this by myself. I deserve this._

I downed another swig.

As soon as the lip of the bottle left my mouth, Cassius' lips replaced it. I stiffened, alarm sounds ringing through my head.

I ignored them.

I was tired _._ Tired of scrambling for control. Tired of trying to please everybody else. Tired of worrying.

His lips moved expertly against mine and I tried my best to keep up. His tongue grazed my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I parted my lips and _I let him._ I grasped at the hair behind his neck, his hand on the small of my back. My entire body tingled as he pulled me in, and I could feel his kisses growing hungrier and heavier by the minute.

I don't know how long it lasted. All I could feel was the vibrations on my chest from the bass of the music, Cassius' soft lips on mine, and the alcohol settling on my stomach.

When I came up for air, he rested his forehead against mine as he caressed my cheek with the pads of his thumb and whispered, "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that to you."

I smiled, sitting back and bringing the bottle back to my lips to down a couple of more gulps. I turned my head to where Draco was, and there was the same girl – snogging a completely different guy.

I frowned.

I scanned the room. Daphne was laughing at something this Hufflepuff said, twirling her hair as she did so. Pansy and Blaise were sitting in one of the corners, pointing and laughing at all the drunk students who were making fools of themselves. Tracey sat on Graham Montague's lap, giggling.

Draco was nowhere to be seen.

Cassius shifted under me, prompting me to stand up. I took another swig of the Firewhiskey. Grabbing my hand, I wobbled as he led me to the boy's dormitory. _I let him._ As soon as the door closed behind us, he kissed me against the wall, the sound of the music slightly muffled, my mind buzzed. _I let him._ He led me up the flight of stairs, kissing my knuckles as we walked up. _I let him._ He kissed me through the dark corridors and with trembling hands, I brought my fingers to the nape of his neck. _I let him._ He pushed me against a door as he fluttered sloppy kisses on my jaw and down my neck. _I let him._

He had his hand on the small of my back, slowly making its descent.

"Wait," I whispered, the alarm in my head growing louder and louder. He must not have heard me over the music because his fingers started deftly unbuttoning my black button-down blouse down my chest as his mouth continued its trail on my collarbones.

"Wait," I said louder. He didn't budge. I tried to push him off, but he leaned most of his weight against me.

"Wait."

_He didn't._

At this point, I realized it was deliberate. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I let out a yelp as his hand slipped inside my dress and up my thighs.

He rubbed painfully against my breasts, bringing tears to my eyes.

"Please stop," I whimpered.

_He didn't._

I realized there was no one here. Everyone was downstairs, and even if I yelled as loud as I could, no one would hear me above the music. My chest started to tighten and my breath came in short, irregular bursts. My vision blurred with tears, and if Cassius wasn't holding me up, my knees would have buckled.

He pulled away from my neck as he pulled the straps of my dress off my shoulders, and I let myself scan the room one more time, assessing all the possible escape points. He was too big and too tall for me to overpower him. My wand was downstairs. The music was too loud and–

I gasped as his fingers slipped past my bra.

I closed my eyes tightly, accepting defeat as his hands grazed and groped parts of my body no one's ever had. I willed away the fear, repeating _it's fine it's fine it's fine_ over and over again, trying to get myself to believe it.

But then the weight of his body was ripped away from me and I was left to drop down on the floor. My knees collided with the wood, the thud reverberating down the corridor. Then followed thumps and guttural groans. I stared at the floor and I watched it glow a variety of colors as jinxes and hexes were thrown around.

"If I _fucking_ hear her name come out your mouth, I'll make sure your mother loses her job in the Ministry – do you understand me? And if you _ever_ go as near as breathing the same air as her, I will personally drag you _to hell and back_. By the time I'm done with you, you'll beg me for _death._ "

I turned my head just in time to see Draco stomp on his face, causing a resounding crack. Before I knew it, he was kneeling by my side.

" _Fucking_ _hell_ , Adara. What the _fuck_ happened?"

"I don't – I was–" I drew a shuddered breath, and it was only then that I realized I had lost all feeling on the tips of my fingers from the lack of oxygen. "I need – air," I gasped.

He nodded, a blend of worry and irritation etched on his face.

" _Fucking_ Salazar Slytherin putting our _fucking_ dormitories underwater," he muttered as he helped me up. He took off his black suit and he wrapped it around my shoulders, carefully buttoning it in place. He led me down the stairs, and somehow, we managed to slip through the party and out of the castle.

I breathed in the night air as soon as the door opened, and the tightness in my chest loosened. We walked and walked and walked, and he held my wrist tightly the whole way through. I'm not sure if he led me there or if it was borne out of muscle memory but we ended up where we usually did: the Quidditch pitch.

We walked up the spectator stands, and I stared stoically in front of me. It had felt like I was floating. Like whatever happened didn't actually happen and it was all just a bad dream. But I was vaguely aware that it did, and so I dealt with the fact the only way I knew how.

"I always wanted my first kiss to be memorable," I joked dryly, my lips twitching into a wry smile.

Draco stood up abruptly.

"That was your _first–_?" He faced me, brows furrowed and mouth half-curled into a pained grimace. " _Fuck –_ I'm going to kill him. I'm going to – I swear on my–"

"Draco–"

He walked back and forth, hands aggressively brushing the hair away from his face.

"It's your _fucking_ birthday. You don't deserve that. You don't deserve any of this. _Fucking hell–"_

"Draco–"

"Why did you even go up with him? _Fuck –_ it doesn't matter. He shouldn't have touched you if you didn't want him to." He let out a furious groan as he kicked the bench I was sitting on, creating a deafening thud.

I jumped in surprise.

"I'm going to kill him I'm going to kill him I'm going to–"

"Draco! Stop–"

" _Fucking hell,_ Adara. If anything _fucking_ happens to you, I swear to whatever _fucking_ deity is listening I'll–"

"Draco." I meant for it to be firm and authoritative, but my voice wavered and it came out sounding more like a whimper.

It didn't really matter. What mattered was it forced him to stop and look at me.

I let him see my lips quiver. Let him see my face crumple as tears fell down my face. Let him see how tired and weak and defeated I was.

 _Only tonight,_ I promised myself. _I deserve this._

"I'm _exhausted,_ " I gasped through ragged breathing."Can you please just sit with me?"

With a disgruntled huff, he complied.

And it stopped mattering that it was the same Draco Malfoy I hated for over four years. The same Draco who couldn't go through a day without insulting someone. The same Draco who would take the thing you hated most about yourself and tear it apart in front of you.

Because _he_ was there when I had thought no one would hear me.

And he was there. Next to me. Alive and breathing. Furious and heaving.

He was always there.

He did nothing as I sniffed and wept and blubbered next to him. He offered no consoling words as I finally let what had happened to me crash around the perfect bubble I had built around myself. He even stiffened when I scooted near him and rested my head on his shoulder.

But he was there, and _that was enough._

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _hostage – Billie Eilish_


	16. Flutter

"Ava, I'm so sorry," Daphne said the next morning. She, Millie, and Tracey crowded in my bed as I glossed over the details of last night, slightly altering the parts with Draco in them. "I didn't know he would – I really thought he was a gentleman. I mean, that's what everyone said. If I had known, I wouldn't have – _Merlin,_ Ava. I can't believe–"

"It's not your fault." I shook my head. "If anything, I shouldn't have drunk that much. And I shouldn't have gone up with him. I don't know what I was thinking, I–"

Then came a voice I wasn't expecting.

"It doesn't _fucking_ matter what you did or didn't do," Pansy said from across the room, brushing through her black hair in front of the dresser. "Even if you said yes to a few things, it doesn't mean he's entitled to everything else."

The four of us stared at her reflection, shocked that she was even listening.

After a beat, Millie cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Pansy's right," Millie said. "What you're not going to do is blame yourself for the _vile_ things Warrington did to you."

"It was–," Tracey gulped, her eyes darting to Pansy then back to me, "–really good that Malfoy was there. If he weren't–"

"Yes." Pansy laughed haughtily, "Malfoy seems to always be there when Adara's involved."

"I'm sure he would have done the same for all of us," Daphne said sharply, her tone reminiscent of a mother scolding her children. "He's an arse but he's not a rapist."

I watched Pansy's reflection roll her eyes.

"Ava, if you need us, we're just here, okay?" Daphne said, brushing through my hair gently.

Millie put her hand on mine consolingly and Tracey rested her head on my shoulder.

After the tumultuous January I've had, February passed – thankfully – as tame as it could. For once, I was grateful for the mountains of homework the professors gave us. It gave me excuses to stay up until unholy hours of the night as I buried myself under essays and books in futile attempts to forget _him._ But then I'd catch him staring at me in the Great Hall as I ate breakfast with Draco and all progress came crashing down.

It also gave me a reason to pause my search for my parents. Quite frankly, I don't think my heart was equipped for all the disappointment it brought. All I've been doing was wasting my time reading and searching the library when I had no lead to grasp. I told myself to focus on O.W.L.s because that's what's more urgent but if I were being honest, I was losing hope I'll ever find anything.

Draco was... _different_. He was still snarky and rude. Still looking down at everyone else with his jutted chin and disdainful glares. Still incredibly insensitive – and Merlin knows how annoyed I was when he nonchalantly pointed out how dark my under eyes have gotten since I turned sixteen – in front of all our friends, might I add.

But then he stuck around longer. Closer, even. He started waiting for me to finish eating breakfast despite Daphne's presence. He was in constant high-alert during our nights in the Quidditch pitch, the smallest of sounds prompting him to grab me by my wrist. And once or twice, I've seen him resemble a feral dog who glared and sneered at any unfamiliar male presence around me.

Not before long, the much dreaded Hogsmeade visit came. _Valentine's Day._ If things had gone according to plan, I would have gotten up early. I would have taken my time in front of the dresser, fixed my hair, put on powder, and maybe some mascara, made sure my clothes fit well and whatnot. But things _didn't_ go according to plan so there I was, stuffing pancakes into my mouth, bitterly commenting on how _sweet_ the couples looked today. I grimaced into my orange juice as I watched a Hufflepuff couple feed each other, giggling and looking all lovey-dovey.

Draco and I looked at each other simultaneously, both of us wearing matching sneers.

" _Disgusting_ ," I said, rolling my eyes.

His expression switched from striking contempt to bewildered amusement.

"Excuse me? _I_ sneer, _you_ pout and say something along the lines of _'how sweet'_ or whatever sunshine and rainbows you manage to conjure on a whim," Draco quipped.

"Yeah, well, let's just say the constant cloud you have hanging over your head has made its way to mine."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

He looked past my shoulder. "Why so dressed up, Greengrass?"

I turned my head.

Daphne waltzed towards us, the hem of her tea-green sundress swinging with her step.

"Oh you know, just trying to ensnare a bachelor worth my time."

I snorted.

"Why is everyone being so snarky today..." Draco grumbled under his breath.

"Just trying to give you a run for your money, is all," I teased, earning myself a nudge on the head.

After breakfast, we joined the queue of people being signed out by Filch. Pansy and Blaise were pointing and snickering at couples, making bets as to which ones wouldn't survive the day while Tracey had gone back to the end of the line with Graham Montague, _her date._ I rolled my eyes, prompting Daphne to smack my arm.

"You're starting to look more and more like Draco, you know," she huffed as we passed through Filch, the caretaker barely glancing at us before waving us away.

"And that's a bad thing because...?" We walked down the driveway arm-in-arm, the rest of our friends laughing pompously at passersby who looked _gushy_ and _sweet._ The boys had started running towards Hogsmeade, prompted by a "race" Goyle had suggested. They pushed past students walking ahead of us, earning them glares and protests.

Daphne rolled her eyes at the five sprinting figures.

"Exhibit A," Daphne said, looking at me incredulously.

As we passed through the gates, Pansy's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Potter and Chang!" Pansy squealed, Millie giggling beside her.

The two looked so awkward together, I couldn't help but bite back my amusement. Daphne tried to hide her smile under her scarf.

"Urgh, Chang," Pansy said, feigning disappointment. "I don't think much of your taste... At least Diggory was good-looking!"

I accidentally let out a chortle, guilt immediately settling as soon as I saw Cho flush beet red. In my defense, Cedric truly was good-looking. And nice. And smart. Potter was just... _Potter._ Famous, and _special_ , and whatever it was they called him nowadays.

I nodded apologetically to Cho before we continued our walk to Hogsmeade.

The High Street was filled with students running about on the pavements and peering into the shop windows. As per tradition, we all met up outside Honeydukes. On the shop window was a poster ( _"By Order of the Ministry of Magic"_ ) offering a thousand Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information relating to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured. I tore my eyes from Bellatrix Lestrange's photo to look at Draco who was quite obviously feigning oblivion. He was receiving deprecating looks from students and residents alike.

I edged closer to him, glaring at anyone who dared make their disdain obvious.

After buying a few months worth of snacks, Daphne, once again, dragged me into Tomes and Scrolls and as usual, I humored her for a few minutes before excusing myself for a walk.

I languidly strolled past Hogsmeaders and Hogwarts students crowding and laughing together. I stopped by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop to purchase a number of new quills since most of my others have been _"borrowed"_ by none other than Draco Malfoy, never to be seen again.

It had started drizzling, cold droplets of rain hitting my face. I walked back to Tomes to try and drag Daphne to a pub.

I pushed open the door with my shoulder, my hands holding the paper bags up to my head in an attempt to stay dry.

"Aren't you done yet? I'm hungry so can we please–"

I gasped. Loud and uninhibited.

Daphne was on the far end of the shop, cornered into one of the shelves hidden from sight of the store owner. _Snogging_ somebody.

They jumped away from each other, both staring at me with wide eyes.

The curly-haired boy looked extremely familiar. He was a Hogwarts student for sure. Definitely not Slytherin or else I would have recognized him immediately. I racked my mind through a mental catalogue of boys in our year.

That's when it dawned on me.

He was one of the people who were petrified by the basilisk when the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

"Ava–," Daphne said, approaching me hesitantly.

"Hufflepuff," I gasped, the shock very much present in my tone.

"Ava, I–"

"Hypocrite," I said, brows furrowing in irritation. "You were so _mad_ at me for – for – for the _thing!"_

"I know, I'm sorry, I–"

"I – who – how – what?"

"Can I – can I explain?" Daphne asked. She was in front of me, the boy still stuck from the corner they were snogging in _._ He was massaging the nape of his neck, eyes fleeting across the room awkwardly.

I raised my eyebrows at Daphne expectantly.

"I–," she started.

She looked back at him, and he gave a curt nod.

"Can we talk outside?" She eyed the shop owner who stared at the two of us, wide-eyed and perplexed at the outburst.

Squinting my eyes, I huffed past the door, and walked to a corner by the shop window that was still covered by the roof.

"Ava, I'm sor–"

"Who?"

She sighed. "His name's Justin. Finch-Fletchley? I'm not sure if you know him but–"

"How?"

"I met him during the summer break and–"

"You've been hiding it from me for eight months?!"

" _No – no – no,_ I mean–," she sighed. "I don't know. It was supposed to be a summer thing I mean I broke it off before school started but he was – he was just so... persistent and–"

I shook my head.

"But why didn't you just tell me?"

"He – he – he's Muggle-born."

_Oh._

She looked so abashed and defeated. My anger deflated at the sight.

"Okay, but I still don't understand–"

"Ava... our _friends..._ they wouldn't understand. I'd be shunned away and be called a _blood_ _traitor_. My family's relationship with theirs would suffer. I – I can't do that to my parents." Her voice cracked, tears brimming her eyes. She threw her head back, blinking rapidly and my eyes widened at the realization that she was _about to cry._

It was true. What I said about Daphne never seeing me cry, it was true. The first time I cried in front of her was when she had caught me. I realized then that the first time I'd seen her cry was when I caught _her._

"He – he's the nicest boy I've ever met, Ava. And I kept pushing him away because of – of – _blood purity –_ of all things." She brought her hand to her mouth, muffling the whimper that escaped her lips. "I don't deserve him," she sobbed, frantically wiping away the tears.

I enveloped her into a hug, stroking her back consolingly.

"I couldn't – I couldn't even tell my own best friend about him," she whined between ragged breaths. "He... deserves... better."

"Shh," I said, "It's not – I'm sure–"

The door of Tomes opened, and Justin emerged, worry etched on his face.

"Daphne..." he said gently, putting a hand on the small of her back. "I know a place where you guys can talk... in private? If that's what you want."

Daphne stood up straight, sniffing. She gave a small nod, and Justin led us to this dingy pub with a battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door. _Hog's Head,_ it said. On top was a picture of a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. I paused before entering, alarm bells ringing in my head.

But then Daphne was walking in without even a moment's hesitation and I knew then that she was _gone._ Cautious and pragmatic Daphne who grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, casually walking into an incredibly dodgy pub, blindly trusting whatever is inside because Justin said so. Because she knew Justin wouldn't do anything to harm her.

She trusted him, and I trusted her.

I walked in.

And he was right. No one was there. Except for a few locals and the barkeep, the place was practically empty. I ignored the dirty gray bandages around the barkeep's head. And the suspiciously fiery substances that he served to even more suspicious customers. And the two hooded figures who talked suspiciously low.

I ignored them as I scurried to the table where Daphne sat, Justin stroking her hair.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" he asked softly.

"Maybe Butterbeer?" she said, still sniffing.

"Do you want one too?" he asked me, smiling.

 _Polite,_ I noted.

"I – uh – yes," I said. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of Daphne's head before leaving to get us drinks.

"He's sweet," I said, smiling.

"He is." She laughed through the tears.

"How did it happen?"

"Oh – uh – his family moved to Windsor last summer. He was a few houses down from ours and – uh – yeah. That's – how it happened."

Justin came back, placing the two drinks in front of us.

"I'll just – sit somewhere else so the two of you can talk," he said, squeezing her shoulders.

She watched him walk away, a look of pure adoration on her face.

"You love him," I said. I meant for it to be more of a question, but it was obvious it was one that didn't need asking.

She nodded anyway. Sadly. Longingly. Defeatedly.

"Tell me _everything_ ," I said, sipping the Butterbeer.

They first saw each other in a park by the river. She was writing, he was reading. He recognized her, she didn't recognize him. When the sun set, she walked back home and felt someone following her. In her panic, she cast the Impediment Jinx on him.

 _I wasn't following you! I was walking home!_ he argued.

_You could have kept your distance! You need to learn how to be more considerate of women!_

They fought, made up, became friends, became more than friends, became ex-lovers, became friends again, became more than friends again, and now we're here.

"I really tried not to," Daphne said, her eyes fleeting to where he sat by the bar, a book in his hand, "but he was so... _convincing._ "

Her laughter prompted him to look up, and they exchanged smiles from across the room. If it were anybody else, I would have wrinkled my nose in disgust, but it was Daphne. And she was _so_ happy. He made her happy.

"I'm happy for you," I said, putting my hand over hers from across the table. "I'm sorry you felt the need to hide it from me, I–"

"No, it's not your fault. I wanted to tell you. I knew I could, it's just that – I was scared. And saying it out loud would have made it... _real._ "

"I understand."

She nodded. She knew I did.

"I think we're just about quits now, don't you agree?" she teased.

I nodded, laughing.

"I'll leave you to it then," I said, standing up.

"What? No – I don't want you to be alone today."

"Daphne, it's fine." I chuckled. "It's the day for _romance,"_ I emphasized the word, animatedly waving my hand just like a Muggle magician would for a magic trick."Enjoy it. The two of you deserve it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said, mocking exasperation. "Justin!" I called.

He was by Daphne's side in an instant.

"You," I said, gently stabbing a finger on his chest, "take care of my best friend."

He chuckled.

"I will." He smiled down at her lovingly, and she looked back up with equal ardor.

I took that as my queue to leave.

I walked out of the pub and out the narrow side street. The rain had stopped, but the skies remained overcast, signaling that the worst of it was yet to come. I let my mind wander to Daphne's story. I couldn't believe how oblivious I was. I had _no clue._ I'm not sure if that made me a bad friend or her a good liar, but either way, I was genuinely concerned.

Just as I rounded the corner, I crashed face-first into someone's back.

"Sorry," I said, staggering backward.

He turned to face me, and the sight sent my heart into overdrive.

"Ava," he whispered, his Adam's apple bobbing against his neck. "I–"

I walked back slowly, almost tripping on a rock.

"Ava, I'm–" Cassius said. "I'm sorry."

He looked... _normal._ Whatever Draco did to him, no visible marks were left. The thought made anger rise up on my chest. My eyes stung in frustration and it took everything in me not to hex him in the middle of the street.

"I've wanted to talk to you for days, but Malfoy–" he shook his head, "I'm sorry, Ava. I didn't mean to – I was drunk and the music was loud and I swear I couldn't hear you – I'm so sorry."

He took a step forward.

"Don't!" I said, flailing my arms in front of me. "Don't come any closer!"

"Okay, I won't." He raised his hands in defeat. "I just need you to know that I really didn't mean to do that. I'm so so so sorry. But you know me, Ava. I'm not like that. I was just – I was just drunk, I swear."

I shook my head wildly, fear overwhelming every nerve in my body. I tried breathing but it felt like there was a barrier between my throat and my lungs, the air failing to enter.

"Ava, please believe me. I'm so sorry. You don't know how horrible I felt in the past two weeks. And – today – we should have been having fun today. I'm sorry–"

Then someone cladded in black obscured my vision.

"What the _fuck_ did I say, Warrington?"

"Malfoy. I know. I – I was just apologizing–"

I gripped the side of his jacket tightly, my nails digging into the fabric as I heaved against his back.

"I warned you," Draco snarled, taking a step forward. My grip on his jacket held him back.

"Don't," I managed to whisper between heaves. "You can’t lose a Chaser."

He stilled.

"Get the _fuck_ out of my sight, Warrington. And watch your back."

After a few seconds, Draco maneuvered his way into facing me, my grip on his jacket causing the fabric to twist.

"Adara," he said. "You're wrinkling my jacket. It's worth more than–"

He paused when he caught sight of my face. He scanned me for a second before wrapping his hand around my wrist, gently tugging it off his clothes.

"Look," he pointed behind me suddenly, laughing.

I frowned.

I turned my head to where he was pointing, confused as to what's so humorous that he had to point it out _now._

Despite losing feeling in my fingers, I squinted at the houses on the far end of the road. There were locals chatting and laughing with each other. Students exiting Gladrags with paper bags in their hands. The sign on top of Zonko's swaying with the wind.

I tilted my head, my brows furrowing.

"Where?" I wheezed, my shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

"There," he said, pointing at the exact same thing.

"I can't see anything."

"What? It's right there. Just look closely."

"Draco, there's nothing there."

"There is," he insisted. "Just keep looking."

My brows furrowed. I scanned the faces of people passing by, signages, shop windows, roofs, _everything,_ but I still couldn't see anything.

I looked at him incredulously, turning my back at whatever it was he was pointing out.

"There's nothing," I said.

"You're right," he laughed. "There's nothing."

I stared at him, unblinking.

"But it worked, didn't it?"

"What did?"

"You're breathing better now."

_Oh._

"Oh," I said. "How'd you know how to do that?"

He stammered.

"My... mother. She has trouble with that too."

The signages shook as a violent gust of wind descended on us, followed by heavy and abrupt rainfall.

It was as if time had decided to freeze. Every movement felt slow, almost as if I were watching a Muggle film in half the speed.

Draco's hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me towards a narrow roof-covered alley.

"Why didn't you bring the scarf I got you for your birthday?" he complained under his breath, panting.

His long, slender fingers were on his scarf, tugging it off its knot.

He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. He felt warm _._

He wrapped it around my neck, his face _close._ I could smell his cologne.

He lifted the edge of the fabric to cover my head from the rain, gently brushing wisps of my hair out of my face.

He hooked his finger on my necklace – _his necklace –_ to adjust the pendant so that it sat in the middle of my chest. I stopped breathing.

He looked at me. His silver eyes strong and steady and _beautiful._

That's when I felt it.

_An anomaly._

**_A flutter._ **


	17. Under The Sheets

_**LISTEN:** Fuck Up the Friendship – Leah Kate_

__

I was careful. Careful not to cross any lines. _Friendship_ was the plan. Nothing more, nothing less. I could've flirted. That would have made my life a lot easier. Boys are a lot more pliant when the prospect of sex was on the table. But I didn't. Because – well, for one thing, I _do_ have morals. Second, I didn't want to whore myself out just to keep my secret safe. Lastly, and most importantly, I was neither knowledgeable enough nor experienced enough to do so.

_"I can barely stand you."_

Likewise.

_"I can't afford to lose my Golden Snitch because she caught feelings."_

It was just a small flutter. Not feelings.No.

 _"Ava and I are_ **_just friends._ ** _"_

I swallowed thickly.

This wasn't – no – I shouldn't – I can't–

"What's wrong with you?" he sneered, languidly leaning against the wall in front of me.

I inhaled a sharp breath, pausing just before the expected exhale.

His face softened, brows furrowing together. "Are you having another panic attack?"

The loud pitter-patter of the rain drowned out his words, but his voice was _sweet_ and _pleasant_ and–

Another flutter.

 _Merlin, God,_ or whoever was listening, _please._ No.

"Ava?" He tilted his head to the side, worry laced in his tone.

I could see the soft blonde strip of hair above his lips, a tiny brown mark on the side of his neck, the shallow dip just below his cheekbones. His face was sharp and angular, but also smooth, and _nice,_ and _handsome–_

No – no – no – no – no.

"I'm alright." But the words came out croaky and almost like a wheeze, I had to pretend to cough.

"Adara..." His forehead was puckered together, his lips set in a grim line.

"Draco," I faked a laugh, "I'm alright. I just – I want to go back to Hogwarts. I'm not–"

He nodded, brows still furrowed, eyes still worried. He took off his jacket, using it as a makeshift umbrella as we rushed through the High Street, his hand hovering over my head, forcing me to stay close to him so I don't get drenched.

 _It was nothing,_ I thought. The flutter was nothing. Just the spur of the moment thing. It didn't mean anything.

_Right._

It didn't mean anything.

Just friends – just friends – just friends.

I repeated that mantra all throughout our haste and by the time we reached the giant oak doors, I managed to convince myself of it.

Just friends.

But then we were back in the common room, and he was _looking_ at me again, the green glow of the lake shining against his eyes and his hair disheveled from the cold air and – and – and my breath got stuck somewhere between my lungs and my throat and–

 _Stop_.

"I'll–," I stammered, "–I'm not feeling so well. I– I'll just rest."

He frowned.

"Adara," he said softly, and I realized then that that was the most gentle he's been with me ever since we met. "Tell me what's wrong."

"N-nothing's wrong." I laughed awkwardly, stumbling backward. I grabbed the back of the sofa to keep from falling. "Why do you think anything's wrong?"

He frowned. "Do you need Madam Pomfrey? I could–"

"No, no, no. It's not – it's not like that." I smiled reassuringly. "I just need to sleep it off, I guess."

"Sleep in my room."

I stared at him.

"No one's here. If anything happens to you, I wouldn't be able to go up to the girl's dormitory."

It was an old-fashioned rule. According to _Hogwarts: A History,_ the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anytime a boy attempted to walk up the stairs of the girl's dormitory, a loud, wailing, klaxonlike sound would ring and the steps would melt together to make a long, smooth stone slide.

I gulped, my head bobbing in long, slow nods as I racked my brain for a viable excuse that didn't conflict with my previous statements. Before I could, he was already pulling me by my wrist. Not before long, I was in the last place I wanted to be at that moment.

In his bed. Under the sheets. My head creating a dent on his black silk pillowcase.

He settled by the foot of his bed, his head resting on one of the posts as he flipped through a book that read _Alchemy, Ancient Art, and Science_ by _Argo Pyrites_. As he scanned the page, I watched the slight rises and falls of his eyebrows, the small twitches on his mouth, the flitter of his eyelashes as he–

"Sleep," Draco said, eyes still glued to the page.

I averted my eyes. Nodding once, I let my eyes close shut, and soon after, the sound of flipping pages lulled me to sleep like a comforting lullaby.

♰

I woke up with a startle, Blaise's golden slanted eyes staring down at me.

"Blaise," I gasped.

Draco stirred, and I was made aware of his arm languidly lying on top of the blanket, just above where my feet were. He had fallen asleep, the book squashed between my knees and his hipbone.

"What time is it?" he asked, yawning and stretching his arms.

"Quarter past two." Blaise loomed over us with crossed-arms and a quizzical brow quirked.

"We slept through lunch," Draco grumbled under his breath, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

With one final stretch, his silver eyes met Blaise's golden ones. He stared back up to Blaise's perplexed gaze, his eyes squinting into a threatening glare. As if daring him to question my presence.

A hearty laugh escaped Blaise's lips as he raised his hands defeatedly.

"By all means, don't let me disturb your... _whatever this is._ "

I sat straight up, heat rising on my cheeks.

He walked over to his bed across from Draco's, falling into a fit of chuckles.

"Sleep," I supplied stupidly. "We were sleeping."

"Whatever you say," Blaise said, stifling his laughter into a smirk. "You have about... an hour or so before Pansy gets back and raises hell on the both of you. Do with that information what you will."

Draco rolled his eyes as he folded his arm behind his head.

He turned to me, the sharp edges of his glare softening by a tad.

"Are you... feeling better?"

I nodded. "Thank you," I said, "for... _this._ "

Our eyes caught and I looked back at him a little too long, before Blaise's suppressed snort prompted me to fleet my eyes to him.

I huffed through my nose, glaring at him and crossing my arms as he sat on his bed, taking off his shoes.

"Why are you back so early?" I asked in an attempt to divert the conversation.

"Oh – sorry," he teased, feigning apology, "do you want me to give the two of you some privacy?"

"Blaise," I said sharply; I closed my eyes as I took a calming breath, "one more joke and I won't lend you my revision notes."

His shoes hovered above the floor, hands paused in the middle of untying his laces. He seemed to ponder his choices for a second before clearing his throat and resuming.

"Got sick of watching people snog." His face contorted into a disgusted grimace. "Then Pansy and Millie went to the hair salon again, Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't leave Zonko's, and I couldn't find everybody else. Much to my surprise, I found the two of you here cuddli–," I gave him a piercing look, prompting him to gulp, "–sleeping."

Draco had his back turned to Blaise and he watched me, amuse and almost a swell of pride flashing across his eyes.

"Well then," I said, scratching my eyebrow, "that's... that. I... am... going to take a bath. So if you'll excuse me."

I slipped out of Draco's bed, avoiding eye contact with both of the boys as I walked out of their room. Just before I shut the door behind me, I vaguely heard soft thumps and muffled laughter.

My face flushed at the racket.

I walked down to the common room and up the girl's dormitory, determined to wash away any remnants of whatever it was I felt earlier today.

I rationalized. Blamed it on a certain saint of courtly love. _Yes –_ that was it. It was because it was Valentine's. _It was a coping mechanism,_ I thought. I was lonely and he happened to be there. _Yes._

For weeks, it felt like I had succeeded. Days went by without much of a hitch. Breakfast, Transfiguration, Quidditch practices, and moments in between were as normal as it could be. But then the flutters came... occasionally, but I managed to ignore them... most of the time.

There was... this _one time._ We were all eating lunch in the Great Hall. Next to me, Blaise and Daphne were talking about Donaghan Tremlett, the Weird Sisters' bass player, and his new wife and how she was a close family friend of the Zabini matriarch.

Draco sat in front of me, reading through my Transfiguration notes for an essay he forgot to write. I watched him scan the page as I absentmindedly cut through the lamb chops with my knife.

I realized there was something incredibly disconcerting about the color of his eyes. In the plainest of words, they were gray. It was the color between black and white. Between light and dark. And gray was supposed to be dull. But Draco's eyes... they were anything but. He carried them with such dignified grace, such authority, and there was a quiet calm in them that was so dangerously alluring. Pools of silver and stone I found myself falling into.

Without thinking, I muttered, "I like your eyes."

He looked up from the parchment, his eyes gleaming with amused surprise. My head jolted backward, almost as if waking up from a nightmare.

"Oof," Crabbe teased.

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

"Told you she's obsessed with me," Draco added, smirking.

"I'm not." I laughed, feigning nonchalance. "It's just a compliment, _Malfoy._ Relax."

His jaw dropped slightly. "Malf–?" He shut his mouth, a challenging smile sprawling across his face as he shook his head.

"I'll even do it again," I added, turning to Crabbe. "I like your–," I swallowed thickly, realizing how I overplayed my cards, "–your–," Crabbe's gaze slowly turned into a glare, "your hair?"

My eyebrow itched.

Next to Crabbe, Pansy was watching the situation unfold with crossed-arms and a tight-lipped smile.

"What about me?" Daphne asked, a teasing glint on her eyes.

My nose twitched as I realized the game she's playing.

"I like your nose," I said, smiling at her sarcastically.

"And me?" Blaise asked, smirking.

I glared at him.

"I like your... cheekbones," I said with gritted teeth.

I turned back to Draco. He was biting his knuckles to keep himself from bursting into laughter. I squinted my eyes at his flushed face and he wet his lips, his signature smirk materializing.

Panic overtook me when I realized I no longer wanted to smack it off his face, but instead, I wanted to _kiss_ it away.

I grappled for whatever was left of my sanity because – _Godric, Salazar, Rowena, and Helga,_ I _cannot_ fall for Draco Malfoy.

I shook my head, focusing on the mashed potatoes and lamb chops on my plate as the table resumed their conversation.

As we were walking to Arithmancy, Daphne grabbed my arm, pulling me back from the group. Once we were out of hearing range, she turned to me, her eyes narrowed and her brow arched.

"I thought we didn't like Draco?" There was a teasing edge to her voice but underneath was a worry she couldn't mask.

"We don't," I said, jutting my chin.

"Then what was that?"

"What was what?"

" _I like your eyes,"_ she mocked, pretending to swoon.

"I didn't say it like that!"

"Sure..." She rolled her eyes, walking away.

My newfound knowledge about Daphne and her relations with the Hufflepuff brought about a number of realizations I hadn't noticed before. Justin watched her. During class, in the Great Hall, in the corridors, everywhere. He looked at her like a lost puppy, completely smitten. She, on the other hand, was an incredible actress. She wouldn't even bat an eyelash if someone pushed Justin directly in front of her face.

But then I'd walk her to their secret spot under the Viaduct and she would look at him with such... _admiration._ They were so disgustingly in love, my heart couldn't help but break a little at the reminder of why they had to keep it secret.

By the end of February, Slytherin garnered a win against Ravenclaw while Gryffindor felt the loss of Potter as Seeker and the twins as Beaters when they lost to Hufflepuff. This fueled a rowdier common room as we celebrated our first win of the year.

Draco savored the glory as he was showered with praises and compliments, most everyone brimming with joy, not only for our win but also for Gryffindor's loss. His white undershirt was drenched with sweat, the fabric clinging onto his porcelain torso, the muscles on his biceps flexing as he returned high-fives and I defeatedly let myself appreciate the sight because I could swear on Salazar's good name that he looked _so_ damned _good–_

"Have you told Malfoy you're in love with him yet?"

I jumped in surprise.

Blaise stood next to me smirking, beads of sweat streaking down his neck.

"What–," I laughed awkwardly, "–I'm not in love with – What?"

He let out an amused scoff.

"I never thought you and Malfoy..." he trailed off. "But I see it," he added, nodding approvingly.

"What?" I asked again, befuddled by his sudden remarks.

"It's just that, he's so," his face dropped into an exaggerated sneer, "and you're so," he smiled widely, his nose scrunching up and his eyes squinting together.

I stared at him, unblinking.

"What?" I asked _again,_ his words refusing to sink in.

He laughed.

"When I saw the two of you sleeping together, I'll be honest, I was shocked. I always thought Pansy was just... blowing things out of proportion."

"We weren't sleeping _together._ We were sleeping _next to each other._ We weren't even touching."

"That's the thing though, isn't it? He managed to get a pretty girl in his bed and – _Merlin,_ I can't believe I'm about to say this about Malfoy but – he was actually _respectful._ " He chuckled lowly.

"So you think I'm pretty."

"Nice deflection." Blaise rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying you're some irresistible goddess – and quite frankly – you're not _my_ type. But boys are simple-minded. And..." he trailed off, looking up in thought, "I'm pretty certain you're Malfoy's type."

For the umpteenth time of the month, my cheeks flushed.

"Don't say things like that," I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Why? Still trying to convince yourself of this whole _just friends_ thing?" He chuckled.

I rolled my eyes.

Then a thought dawned on me.

"Does – does Draco bring... a lot of girls to bed?"

He looked at me, slack-jawed and eyebrows raised in amusement before throwing his head back laughing.

"Not _his_ bed, no," he said after a fit of laughter, "but if you're asking about his body count... I think you've forgotten how... _particular_ he is about the company he keeps. And how horrible he is with girls – _no_ – how horrible he is with people in general." He snickered. "But he did have a bit of fun with a few of the Beauxbaton girls. Do you remember the fit Pansy threw in the Yule Ball when he disappeared in the middle of the night?"

"I – I wasn't there." I scratched on my eyebrow, feeling very much self-conscious and defeated. _Beauxbaton girls._ They were absolutely gorgeous, even my jaw dropped open when I first saw them. It was now very clear why Draco wasn't even the slightest bit interested in me.

"Oh, yeah. Your uncle. I forgot." Blaise pressed his lips into a thin line, smiling bashfully. "Well, yeah. Malfoy's lucky he looks the way he does. His social skills definitely need improvement. It was a wonder how he managed to shag Amelia Millefeu–"

Blaise slapped his hand to his mouth, his eyes widening when he saw the look on my face.

"Adara," he said, stifling a laugh. " _Merlin_ – I'm so sorry." He chuckled, not looking even the littlest bit sorry. "But if it's any consolation, as far as I know, that's the extent of his... _experience_ and they're all back in France now so–"

I balled my hands into fists in futile attempts to calm the rising anger. "I don't _need_ the consolation, because _I don't care_ ," I spat. "He can shag whoever he wants to shag because we're _just friends."_

Blaise flinched.

He sighed. "Listen. Malfoy – he cares about you. I don't know why or how it happened, but he does."

I know he does – I made sure he does – but not in the way I want him to.

"You both had me fooled, I'm not going to lie. I'm actually due an apology to Pansy anytime now–"

"Well, when are _you_ going to tell Pansy you're in love with _her?"_

His head snapped down to look at me, his smirk faltering for a short second. A whisper of a laugh flew out of his lips as he shook his head.

"I'll be ready when you are," he said, his lopsided grin growing.

"Don't hold your breath."

"So you admit it then?" He laughed.

"I'm not in _love–"_

"Speak of the devil," Blaise warned.

Draco walked towards us warily, a subtle glower trailed on Blaise.

Then he turned to me, grinning wide.

I filed away all the frustration I felt for him to the back of my mind to deal with later. Taking a deep breath, I unclenched my fists and plastered a smile with equal enthusiasm.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" He positioned himself between me and Blaise, the latter laughing as he walked away.

"Congratulations!" I cheered, gently punching him on the arm. "You did it."

He turned to face me, smiling. He ruffled up my hair and said, " _We_ did."  
  


Monday morning came and a new notice was plastered all over the school.

––– BY ORDER OF –––

**The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts**

Any student found in possession of the magazine _The Quibbler_ will be expelled.

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven._

Signed:  
Dolores Jane Umbridge  
HIGH INQUISITOR

Naturally, all the notice did was pique the interest of the student body. Those who didn't even know what _The Quibbler_ was made sure they got their hands on a copy.

We girls crowded together in Daphne's bed as we looked down on the March edition of the magazine. On the front cover was Harry Potter's grinning face, plastered with large red letters reading:

**HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:**   
**THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED**

We read through the article, gasping when Potter named the Death Eaters who allegedly fought the night Cedric Diggory was killed.

Potter said that the Triwizard Cup turned out to be a portkey and that when he and Diggory touched it, they were transported to a graveyard in Little Hangleton. He named Peter Pettigrew as the one who cast the Killing Curse on Diggory under You-Know-Who's instruction. He recounted the fear and shock and the numb disbelief he felt. He recounted how _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ was brought back to life: bone of the father, flesh of the servant,andblood of the enemy. How the Dark Lord looked like: hands like large, pale spiders, red eyes, and pupils slit-like. How he summoned the Death Eaters with Pettigrew's Dark Mark.

Then the Death Eaters came. Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and _Malfoy._

By the end of the article, all of us looked as pale as ghosts.

The Dark Lord was back.

There was no denying it now. It was quite obvious from the beginning. Draco had known the escape from Azkaban. He must have known his father was still working for _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_.

None of us wanted to face it. None of us wanted to confront the fact that we eat among the sons of Death Eaters. We turned a blind eye on all the times the four of them huddled together after receiving letters from their parents. We pretended to not have heard all their incriminating statements. We didn't ask questions.

Draco. _My_ Draco. Son of Death Eater. Accomplice to the Dark Lord.

 _"Keep out of trouble,"_ Aster said.

I drew a shuddered breath as Daphne closed the magazine shut. The five of us sat there in silence, the air growing heavy. None of us knew what to say nor what to do. But one thing was for certain: we all intended to survive whatever's coming. It was only a question of how.


	18. Falling

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Let Me Love The Lonely – James Arthur_

_Screams._ There was a woman screaming in the entrance hall.

Students came flooding out the Great Hall, leaving half-eaten plates of dinner, as we peered out to see what was going on. A great ring had formed with Professor Trelawney in the middle, her wand raised in one hand, an empty bottle of sherry in the other. Her hair was disheveled, glasses lopsided, and she had an excessive amount of shawls and scarves haphazardly trailed across her shoulders. Beside her laid two large trunks, one of them thrown upside down.

At the foot of the marble staircase stood Professor Umbridge, a stern smile on her face.

"No!" Professor Trelawney shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening... It cannot... I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" Umbridge said, her voice shrill and honeyed. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspection, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"

"You c-can't!" Professor Trelawney wailed, tears streaming down her face, "you c-can't sack me! I've been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my home!"

"It _was_ your home," Professor Umbridge said, a malevolent smile on her face as she watched Professor Trelawney sink, sobbing uncontrollably onto one of her trunks, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."

Professor Trelawney was breaking apart at the seams, sobbing and rocking backward and forward on her trunk. A couple of the Gryffindor girls were crying, their arms wrapped around each other. Then footsteps. Professor McGonagall marched straight up to Professor Trelawney.

"There, there, Sybill...," Professor McGonagall said as she patted the sniveling woman on the back. "Calm down... Blow your nose on this," she handed her a large handkerchief, "It's not as bad as you think, now... You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts..."

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge said almost threateningly as she took a few steps forward. "And your authority for that statement is...?"

The oak front doors swung open.

"That would be mine," a deep voice said.

Dumbledore had appeared in the entrance, looking straight out of a Muggle movie poster. The large doorway framed him against an oddly misty night. He strode towards the hysterical Professor Trelawney, Professor McGonagall alongside her.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge said, letting out a singular cold chortle. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here–," she pulled a scroll from her robes, "– an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she – that is to say, I – feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

A loud hiccup escaped Professor Trelawney's lips.

"No – no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere–"

At this point, the guilt had settled somewhere deep in my belly and I slipped past the crowd and down the dungeons, not able to stomach another moment of Professor Trelawney's grief.

 _You had no choice, you had no choice, you had no choice,_ I repeated in hopes of consoling myself. It was either her or Hagrid. _You had no choice._

I plopped down on the black leather sofa, rubbing my hands across my face in frustration. The grief-stricken face of Professor Trelawney kept replaying on the back of my eyelids, prompting me to groan in exasperation.

"You didn't enjoy the show then?"

I whipped my head to the entrance of the common room, shocked by Draco's sudden appearance. I hadn't talked to him since yesterday morning. Not since Potter's article circulated around the school. I wasn't sure whether I was avoiding him or he was avoiding me but I reckoned it was a little bit of both. Reading it had shocked me in ways more than one, but most of all, it shocked me how very little it affected how I saw Draco. It would have probably been better if it had somehow altered what I felt for him, but it didn't, and that frightened me more than anything.

He walked to me warily, his hands in his pocket, sitting a lot farther than he usually did.

" _It's my fault_ ," I said in one breath, almost like a sigh.

He tilted his head.

"Professor Trelawney... it's – it's my fault. Umbridge asked and I – I told her–," I faltered. "It was either her or Hagrid. I thought I was–," I gulped, "–I thought I was doing the right thing but now... now I don't know."

"You couldn't have picked Hagrid? I've been trying to get that oaf sacked for years." There was a faint humorous edge to his tone but it was jaded by fatigue. Reading about _his_ father had taken a toll on _me,_ I had to wonder how much more on _him_. He's dealt with shrewd looks ever since his aunt had escaped Azkaban, and anyone else who still looked at him with neutrality after the fact was now giving him the same disdainful glares. He pretends he doesn't notice. Pretends it doesn't bother him. He overcompensates by rounding his shoulders and puffing out his chest, sneering at anyone who wasn't in his close circle, and sometimes, even them. But I knew, _I knew,_ behind his intimidation tactics, something was breaking inside.

I caught his eye, and he mirrored all the fear and worry and exhaustion I felt.

He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, on the verge of speaking but no words coming out. I waited patiently, letting him gather his thoughts. But then his eyes hardened, his jaw clenched.

Then came an unexpected resolve. A resounding calmness.

"You don't have to," I whispered, scooting close. I placed a tentative hand on his. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to. And I won't ask questions."

He looked at me, _really looked at me._ Like I was blurry at the edges and he was trying to make out my figure.

The room was empty, the silence deafening.

Then his eyes trailed to our hands. Seconds passed and no one dared move.

With a sharp inhale, he turned his hand, _slow_.

Our palms aligned, my lips parting in a silent gasp.

Inch by inch, his fingers were making their descent between mine, _cautious._

I stopped breathing. We were both as still as statues, lying in wait, half-expecting the other to tear away.

But I didn't. And he didn't.

As if in surrender, his head dropped down, bringing our entwined hands to the spot between his eyebrows. He breathed in, the tip of his nose brushing the top of my wrist sending goosebumps up my arms.

Asking for comfort. Drawing strength. Finding solace.

And believe me, if I could, I would have gone to great lengths to gather everything he needed and wrap it all up in a pretty gift. If I could carry even just a little bit of the burden that he was carrying, I would. If I could just take away the pain, I would.

We stayed like that for what felt like a very long time. His eyes were closed, his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed me in. And _I let him._ Let him take whatever it was he needed from me because I knew that with him, it was safe. _I_ was safe.

But then the sound of the stone door shifting reverberated across the room. We ripped apart.

"–a _centaur._ A centaur as our professor, Theo. That's what's wrong," Blaise said.

"A _gorgeous_ centaur," Pansy quipped, earning laughs from Millie, Tracey, and Daphne.

"Firenze doesn't seem _that_ bad. Actually, he doesn't seem _bad at all_ ," Millie said, swooning.

"He's a centaur _,_ as in _part-human–_ "

"Shut up, Blaise. You're just upset there's someone _prettier_ than you are." Pansy rolled her eyes, laughing.

They all settled around our usual spot, Daphne cuddling up beside me as Pansy and Blaise bickered.

"Why didn't you come back to finish your dinner?" she asked, her eyes squinting at the space (or the lack of) between me and Draco.

"Lost my appetite," I said, casually sliding away from him. There was a thrum of electricity between us and I had to take a deep breath to calm the tension coiling up inside.

Without a word of goodbye, Draco stood up and made his departure, leaving a shallow dent on the cushion he sat on.

The next day, we had our first Divination class with Firenze, Professor Trelawney's substitute, and it took a combined effort not to let our boys pounce on the centaur. He was absolutely condescending towards humans – meaning _us_ – that even the Gryffindors took great offense in his words.

 _"Human nonsense,"_ he said when talking about Professor Trelawney's teachings.

He transformed Classroom Eleven into a makeshift forest, trees, and moss growing out of the floor and the walls. He charmed the ceiling to appear like twilight, stars emerging, earnings _oohs_ and gasps. Then to everyone's dismay, he asked us to _lie on our backs._ On moss and ground. If they weren't frightened by Firenze's hooves, I was certain Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco would have thrown a fit.

After watching the stars, Firenze brought out sage and mallowsweet to burn. Then when most of us couldn't make out any of the shapes and symbols in the pungent fumes, he said that _humans were hardly ever good at this._ By the end of his class, whatever attraction Pansy and the other girls had for him had evaporated. After Blaise got over the initial shock, he wore a smug smirk the entire day as they complained on and on about Firenze's comments.

The dull first weeks of March passed by and neither Draco nor I brought up what had happened in the common room. We went about our routine as if it were a dream that never occurred and if it weren't for the lingering memory of his hand in mine, I would have convinced myself it were so.

Draco very rarely left me alone wherever Cassius could approach me, and the only time he would was when I was with Daphne or any of the other girls. For weeks, all we bickered about was how we would go about the threats he's made and how I think _we should wait_ but _no, it can't wait_ and _why not_ and–

"I can't have my integrity being questioned," Draco argued as we walked towards the Quidditch pitch.

"I understand that, but if we make a move now, what would stop him from retaliating before the end of the year?"

"The prospect of death?" He looked at me incredulously, quirking his eyebrow.

"He's not worth a life sentence," I said, mirroring his expression.

"Between the two of us, we're perfectly capable of getting away with murder, don't you think?"

My head tilted in thought. _There are a lot of dangerous creatures in the Forbid–_

I shook my head wildly.

"We're not murdering anyone, Draco," I said with finality.

"We could feed his body to the Thestrals," he offered, shrugging. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"That's too messy and would take too much time," I said. "Just plant a cursed object somewhere he would touch. Or poison his food. Or _Imperio_ him so he would off himself. Or–"

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he teased, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

I inwardly derided myself for thinking out loud.

"We're _not_ murdering anyone," I said, gritting my teeth.

I rushed to the Quidditch pitch, Draco trailing closely behind me. Not before long, we were both in the air, doing our usual stunts. Unusually, he was a lot more playful. And a lot more reckless. One minute I was perched on the ledge of a ring, the next I was flying away. He chased after me, laughing boisterously as he sped up on his broomstick. I flew in circles and in zigzags, settling on spots hidden by the darkness, and when he caught sight of me, I flew away yet again. This went on in cycles until he either outflew me or I got exhausted and I let him win.

What happened next was a mix of both... and something else.

My wings felt heavy as he drew near, his hand outstretched. I slowed down by a tad, expecting a tap on the head. But then his fingers wrapped around my entire body as he laughed mischievously. Then his thumb pressed down on my windpipe and I wanted to tell him I wouldn't be able to breathe if he didn't let me go but all that came out of my beak was a choked chirp and then I felt a lightness reach my head and I started panicking and–

Wings turned to limbs and a look of pure shock flashed across Draco's face as I slipped out of his grasp.

Falling and falling and falling – _thud._ And then a _crack._ And then a guttural scream ripped out of my throat.

 _Pain._ All I could feel was pain. My eyes clouded with tears as a freezing cold swept through my body, beginning from my right leg and ending in the tips of my fingers and my toes.

 _"Fuck – Fuck – Fuck,"_ I heard Draco say. _"Fucking hell."_

I heard the thump of his feet hitting the ground. The stomps against the grass as he ran towards me.

I felt his heat on my side and I let out a yelp as his fingers grazed my leg.

"Don't," I sobbed. "Don't touch it."

" _Fuck,_ what happened? Why did you–"

"I couldn't breathe," I gasped through ragged breathing. "You were choking me and I–"

" _Merlin,_ I didn't know. I – _bloody hell,_ Ava. How – I need to take you to Madam Pomfrey."

He put an arm under my legs and a choked sob escaped my lips.

"Don't – don't – don't, _please,"_ I whimpered.

His lips twitched into a pained grimace, his brows furrowing.

"Ava," he said gently, brushing the hair off my face. "I need to take you to Madam Pomfrey."

"No – not yet. I-It hurts, Draco," I whined, tears streaming down my cheeks and onto my lips.

"I know," he said, rubbing my arm. "But we can't just stay here."

"I d-don't want to get in t-trouble."

He sighed.

"You fell down the stairs, I was patrolling the corridors. I had just gotten back to the common room and I was the one who found you."

I let out a pained whimper at how quickly he came up with an excuse. I _really, really, really_ did not want him to move me.

He put an arm around me, his other making its way under my legs once more. Another wave of pain reverberated across my body like icy fire.

"Stop, stop, stop," I bawled.

He stilled.

"Wand," I said, almost begging.

He grabbed both of our wands in his pocket.

"Just yours," I added. "Stun me."

He nodded. With a flick of his wand, he muttered the charm and a pale blue light flashed onto me.

My entire body went numb. I fell into his arms, letting my eyes close shut.

I listened to the shifting of our clothes as he took me in his arms. The faint crunch of fallen leaves as he walked back to the castle. The short bursts of his breath as he climbed up the stairs. The thump of his shoes against the wooden floor. The paintings stirring and fretting. Filch's croaky voice reprimanding Draco. The creak of a door opening. Madam Pomfrey's shrill tone.

"It's past midnight! What in Merlin's good name happened?" She asked.

"She fell down the stairs and I think she broke her leg. I found her after I patrolled the corridors. She asked me to stun her."

A few more footsteps, and then the squeak of a bed.

Then suddenly, the charm was reversed and a cry of pain escaped my mouth. I sat upright on a hospital bed, my leg propped up by a couple of pillows. Draco stood next to me and I gripped his wrist tightly, my nails digging into his skin.

 _"Ow, ow, ow–,"_ he said, prompting me to glare at him.

He shut his mouth.

"Dear, what happened to you?" Madam Pomfrey asked, looking between me and Draco suspiciously.

"I – I fell down the stairs."

She nodded faintly, squinting at Draco for a half-second before planting a hand on my shoulder.

"I'll just grab a couple of potions, alright dear?"

I nodded.

She scuttered off to the side, scribbling on a notepad as she grabbed vial after vial.

"Adara, I–," Draco said.

"We had a deal," I snapped, looking up at him. "I told you to tap on my head and–"

"I know, I–"

"How are we supposed to practice now? It's going to take at least two weeks to heal and–"

"That doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head as he moved to sit on the edge of my bed. I realized I was still holding onto his wrist and I withdrew my hand immediately, resting it on my lap. "You – you fell twenty feet off the ground. You could have–," he took a deep breath. "You could have died. And it – it would have been my fault."

He brushed his hair off his face in frustration and he looked so stricken, I had to drop my glare.

"A twenty-feet fall is, more often than not, non-lethal–"

"Stop." He sighed. "Get mad at me. _Please."_ His tone was weak and brittle, and it cracked when he said the last word. _Please._ I let out a faint gasp when I realized that he was – he was begging. Draco Malfoy was _begging._ That was the moment I knew something had gone terribly wrong.

"It was an accident. You didn't mean to–"

"Get mad at me, Ava. And don't end up apologizing for it after a few days."

"Why? I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I don't understa–"

"That's the thing, though, isn't it? When it comes to you, I always never mean to but I always end up hurting you anyway. I – I'm not – I don't–"

"Stop." I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to placate the stinging in my eyes. "If you really do not wish to hurt me then I'm going to need you to shut up."

He caught my eye, his expression alternating between anguish and worry.

"Dear, please fill up this form before we get started," Madam Pomfrey said, walking up to us.

Her eyes flitted between me and Draco, forcing me to fake a smile to appease the Matron. I grabbed the clipboard and the quill, setting my focus on answering the questions to distract myself from the growing ache in my heart. Draco hung his head low as I wrote, and even as Madam Pomfrey handed me a Calming Draught, he refused to catch my eye.

He stood up when she started casting spells. First, an on-site numbing charm, and I let out a sigh of relief as I lost feeling in my injured leg. Then she cast an _Ossium Emendo_ and my bones snapped back into place with a resounding crack. With a flick of her wand, my leg was wrapped in a cast.

Not before long, the Calming Draught took effect and my eyelids grew heavy. Draco's silver eyes were the last thing I saw before sleep overtook me.

♰

I woke up to the sound of shuffling feet. My eyes fluttered open to see strips of light cast on the floor of the hospital wing. When I looked up, I saw Daphne's bright blue eyes staring down at me. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed tightly.

Then she snapped her head to where Draco stood by the foot of the bed and her face contorted into a sneer.

"What did you do?" Daphne snapped.

"Daphne," I croaked, sitting up. "It was an accident."

"Do you expect me to believe you just fell down the stairs?"

"No, I–," I turned my head to check for Madam Pomfrey, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw an empty room. "We were just practicing and there was an accident."

Draco still wore the same clothes he was wearing the night before. He still refused to look at me, opting to stare at the ground with his arms crossed.

"Humor me, Ava. How did this _accident_ occur?"

"I–," I started.

"I grabbed her too tight. She couldn't breathe. She transfigured back and I couldn't save her," Draco said flatly, looking Daphne right in the eye.

I sighed.

"Like I said, it was an _accident_ ," I said.

Daphne looked at me incredulously.

"It was reckless endangerment. That's what it was." Daphne turned to Draco, pointing a finger to his face. "You have done _nothing_ but bring trouble to Ava's life. She never owed you _anything_ yet she's given you so much more than you've _ever_ deserved. You're – you're a piece of–"

"Daphne!" I said. "Stop. It was an accident. _Please._ "

"No! He needs to hear this. _You_ were neverobligated to practice with him, Ava. _He_ made you fall the first night. _He_ should've just apologized and be done with it. But _no_ _._ " She laughed coldly, turning to Draco. "Youjust _had_ to take advantage of her, didn't you?"

"Daphne, stop–"

"She's sacrificed _so_ much for you, you don't even know–"

"Stop!" I bellowed, slamming on the mattress under me.

They both flinched.

Daphne's nose flared.

She huffed, crossing her arms and turning back to me. She clenched her jaw and with a sigh, she slumped down on the chair next to me, dejectedly putting a hand on mine. Draco gripped the footboard tightly, his knuckles turning white. He stared at my leg vacantly, and all I wanted was for him to look at me and smile at me like he usually did. But he didn't.

The hospital wing's doors swung open, Dumbledore appearing with Madam Pomfrey.

I shifted on my bed, straightening my posture.

"Miss Adara, Miss Greengrass, Mister Malfoy," he nodded curtly as he approached us. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Professor," the three of us mumbled in unison.

He held his entwined hands in front of him as he paused by the side of my bed. He looked between Daphne and Draco.

"Could I have a word with Miss Adara in private?"

Daphne and Draco nodded promptly, the former giving my hand one last squeeze before walking away, the latter walking away without a word.

Dumbledore waited patiently for the room to be vacated before he turned to me.

"How are you feeling, Miss Adara?"

"Please call me Ava, Professor – I'm feeling a lot better now, thanks to Madam Pomfrey." I smiled politely.

"I'm glad to hear that. Forgive me for troubling you this early in the morning but it has come to my attention that this is the _second_ time you've been caught past curfew with Draco Malfoy."

I inhaled sharply.

"I've been told you fell down the stairs, is that correct?"

I nodded.

He scanned my face for a second.

"I worry about your record, Miss Adara. Prior to this year, you had one of the cleanest records in our school. You have been an exemplary student. The sudden shift in _activity_ is quite concerning, to say the least."

I looked down at my hands in my lap.

"It's come to my understanding that your uncle passed recently. I apologize for not coming to you sooner. I'm afraid that your situation has been overlooked and I take full responsibility for it."

"Professor," I said. "I am not trying to rebel by any means if that's what you're thinking. And Draco isn't – he isn't doing anything wrong. _To me,_ at least."

He nodded slowly, suspicion still clear in his face.

"That's very good to hear. If you have any concerns, do not hesitate to visit my office. I'm sure your Head of House is also more than glad to accommodate you. Losing a loved one is... a very difficult experience, suffice to say. No one will fault you for seeking help."

"Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it. Truly."

"Well, I shall leave you now to rest. I'll be hoping for a fast recovery," he said, giving me a smile before walking away.

"Thank you, Professor."

My eyes followed his retreating figure. Before he exited through the doors, he paused, and with a tight-lipped smile, he turned back to me.

"Just a word of advice: _keep out of trouble._ "


	19. Inquisitorial Squad

I wanted to ask him about it. Ask him what he knew. It was too big of a coincidence, wasn't it? Surely, it meant he knew something. Or knew my uncle, at the very least. It sparked a new fire of hope within me. Just when I thought I would never find a lead, Dumbledore came sauntering in telling me to " _keep out of trouble."_

I was limping with my crutches as I walked to the Headmaster's Tower after dinner. It had been a few days since I was discharged from the hospital wing and both Draco and Daphne had been hovering over me. Draco was so painstakingly quiet when he was with me, still refusing to look me in the eye, only talking to me whenever necessary. Daphne had been glaring at Draco non-stop, and so much more every time I winced in pain. This was the first time in days I managed to slip out of either of their grasps, and I was determined to take up Dumbledore's offer of an office visit.

I was panting once I reached the foot of the stairs, and I almost wanted to give up when I saw just how many steps I had to take to reach it. Each step was a struggle. Left leg first, crutches next _._ It took me almost 10 minutes to reach the Headmaster's corridor and by then I was gasping for breath. My only consolation was the large stone Gargoyle statue staring back at me as it guarded the entrance.

Just a few more steps and I'll–

"Ava! Just the person I was looking for," I heard a shrill voice say from behind me.

My shoulders slumped dejectedly.

I turned around slowly to see the eyesore that was Professor Umbridge approaching me. She wore her signature pink blazer with her matching pink bow and despite the horribly grotesque sight, I plastered on a bright smile.

"Professor, what can I help you with?"

She strode to my side, grabbing my elbow rather forcefully as she pouted in faux sympathy at my injured leg for a second before letting her face light up.

"I just received the most delightful news! But I'm in dire need of help. Come with me to my office," she said.

With an inaudible sigh, I let her lead me down the steps I worked so hard to climb, her fleeting looks of impatience burning a desire within me to push her down. I swallowed thickly.

When we reached her pink-cladded room, I was surprised to see a sniveling curly-haired Ravenclaw girl sitting in one of the chairs. She had her hands on her face as she wailed, Filch standing just behind her.

"What's happening, Professor?" I asked as I sat across from the girl, stretching my leg in front of me and propping my crutches on the armrest.

"Marietta Edgecombe here had just informed me that there is a secret room on the seventh floor called the Room of Requirement where I could find something of my _interest_. Do you happen to know about this room, Ava?"

I shook my head.

"I thought so. Well, I'm fairly certain this room is where Harry Potter and his _friends_ would meet to do Merlin knows what, but Miss Edgecombe refuses to speak on it further."

I nodded.

Eager to get out of her office, I placed a gentle hand on the girl's lap in an attempt to get her to calm down.

"Marietta, is it?" I asked softly. "You did the right thing. If you could just _please_ cooperate with Professor Umbridge–."

Marietta let her hand slide down her face, and I assumed a reassuring smile. But then I was met with horrible close-set purple pustules all over her face, forming the word "SNEAK."

"I–," I started, staring at her wide-eyed. Marietta started wailing again.

"Do you see?" Umbridge shrieked. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

I nodded, brows furrowed, feigning sympathy.

"Marietta, I'm sure we'll find a counter-jinx for that, alright? But right now, we're going to need you to answer questions. Could you do that for us?" I shifted to the edge of my seat to rub her arm consolingly.

Sniffing, she nodded slowly.

"Can you tell us more about this Room of Requirement?"

"We have a m-meeting there. T-Tonight," Marietta said in between sobs.

I nodded, turning my head to face Umbridge.

"Professor, would you like me to assist you in inspecting the room? I could put together a group of students to help you," I offered.

"Would you, now? You truly are a delight, my dear!"

"Of course, Professor. I would love to be of personal assistance but I'm afraid I won't be of much help," I said, gesturing to my cast.

"I understand completely. Now, who are these students you're talking about?"

And so I gave her a list.

She sent Filch off to fetch them and soon enough, Draco, Pansy, Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle were all in the room with me.

Draco was by my side in an instant, glaring down at me.

"Where have you been? Daphne's absolutely furious with me for letting you–"

"Just listen," I cut him off.

Umbridge recounted everything she'd told me and everything she needed them to do as Marietta whined and sobbed, earning disdainful sneers and side-eyes from the five. But when Umbridge mentioned illegal meetings involving Potter and his minions, their eyes lit up with excitement.

Despite the guilt, I was happy to at least have made Draco smile. Even if his face fell at the sight of me.

Umbridge sent word to the Minister before all seven of them ran out, eager to catch Harry Potter and his cronies red-handed. I was left to limp back up the Headmaster's Tower. Left leg first, crutches next. Hand on the railing. Over and over again. After what felt like forever, I was back in the Gargoyle corridor.

Just a few more steps and I'll–

There was shuffling of feet and a number of voices talking over each other. I hobbled towards a dark corner of the corridor as Professor McGonagall and four men sauntered towards Dumbledore's office. I vaguely recognized one of them as Minister Cornelius Fudge, the other Percy Weasley, and the rest I assumed were Aurors.

I sighed. Whatever Potter was doing, it required the urgent attention of Dumbledore and the Ministry. As much as I wanted to waltz in there and demand answers from the Headmaster, whatever Potter was doing was _more_ important _._ As usual.

Exhausted, I made my way down the steps once more, passing by the ruckus of students running after one another. I ignored them as I trudged back down the entrance hall and down the Slytherin dungeons where Daphne and Tracey sat by the fireplace.

Their eyes snapped towards me as I limped towards them.

"What happened? Why did Umbridge call for them?" Tracey asked as Daphne walked towards me, worry etched on her face as she wrapped a hand under my elbow.

"I thinkPotter and his friends were having secret meetings of some sort? This Ravenclaw girl snitched on them about a Room of Requirement? I'm not completely sure what's happening, everyone was all over the place." I sighed, sitting down on the sofa, Sofia jumping into my arms and settling just above my injured leg.

"You think Potter's finally getting expelled?" Tracey asked. Beside me, Daphne was unusually silent. And fidgety.

"I doubt." I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure he'll find a way to paint himself as the hero in all of this."

We spend the rest of the night finishing homework and studying for O.W.L.s. Daphne was still very much on edge and I suspected it had something to do with Justin. I vaguely remember Justin and the other Hufflepuffs being close friends with Potter and the other Gryffindors, so I assumed that whatever trouble Potter was in, Justin was also in. Without a word, I stroked Daphne's back in an attempt to appease her unease.

Just before the clock struck ten, Draco and the others burst into the common room with a look of pure elation on their faces.

"Dumbledore's gone," Crabbe announced, grinning widely.

"What?" I asked just as Daphne breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Apparently, he was recruiting an army of students." Draco laughed haughtily. "They called themselves Dumbledore's Army. Potter, Granger, Weasley, that _mudblood_ in Hufflepuff, a bunch of others. They were actually stupidenough to sign their names in _one_ parchment."

Pansy laughed coldly.

"Is there anything more incriminating than signatures in a list called ' _Dumbledore's Army'_?" Pansy said, plopping down next to Tracey. "Are _mudbloods_ and _blood traitors_ really that stupid?"

"Why is Dumbledore gone?" I asked, the panic rising in my chest.

"He was supposed to be sent to Azkaban but he disappeared," Millie answered, satisfaction clear on her face. "Umbridge is the new Headmistress."

Everyone in the common room had stopped to listen, and the beat of silence after Millie announced the fact was so harsh that a clatter of a quill dropping to the floor would have made everybody jump in shock.

Dumbledore was gone, andI almost laughed out loud. Just when I had an inkling of hope, he disappeared.

I could practically hear the universe mocking me.

Word spread the next day. Umbridge called me and Draco back to her office early in the morning, asking us to _recruit_ even more students for her team. Apparently, Draco did a damn good job at playing cat and mouse with Potter, earning him Umbridge's favor.

Now more than ever, it was important to gain her esteem. At that point, I was sure I could pick any position I wanted in the Ministry and it would be mine. And her constant reassurance to Draco that Lucius Malfoy would be hearing of his good work made him so incredibly happy, it was enough to wash away any guilt I felt for Ron and his friends.

We walked back to the common room just after breakfast. Draco had a sign-up sheet in one hand, my elbow in the other as he helped me trudge down the stone staircase in complete and utter silence. Soon after, a number of Slytherins were passing around the parchment, and not before long, we've recruited five more members, one of them being _Cassius Warrington._

It infuriated me how he acted as if nothing had happened. How he could laugh and clap the backs of his friends as if he hadn't tried to–

As if he hadn't tried to do something so _vile._

I caught Draco glaring at him as he handed out a tiny, silver badge in the shape of the letter ' _I'_ to those who joined.

Back in the girl's dormitory, Daphne was seething. Another secret I learned as soon as the two of us had the chance to talk: she's known about Dumbledore's Army for _months_. Justin was there when they started it. And it wasn't really an _army._ They were allegedly just learning Defense Against the Dark Arts during their spare time. And it wasn't Dumbledore's idea. It was Granger's. The list and the protective jinx that caused pustules to show up on Marietta's face was also apparently Granger's, much to the dismay of their members.

"How can somebody that smart be that _stupid?_ " Daphne fumed, walking back and forth between our beds. "She could have gotten Justin expelled! I understand that she wants to _learn,_ but must she create a _damned_ list that could have gotten everybody in trouble?!"

"Daphne... I'm sure she didn't mean–"

"If she were so smart, she should have thought about charming the parchment, at the very least! Even the first years can make text disappear!"

I nodded, simply letting her vent out her frustrations.

"And poor Marietta... Did you know that Granger didn't inform any of them about the jinx she put on the list?"

I indulged her by shaking my head.

"And now Dumbledore's gone and it's all _her fault,_ " Daphne huffed, plopping down on her bed with a loud creak.

I knew Daphne didn't care about Dumbledore. Nor did she care about Marietta. And she didn't hate Granger either. It was all for Justin.

They planned to meet up under the Viaduct that day, leaving me in Draco's care. He, Crabbe, and Goyle were walking all over the school to look for students to deduct points from so I insisted that he left me in one of the benches by the Entrance Courtyard, not wanting to participate in tormenting our classmates. He put an arm around my waist as he helped me sit down, instructing Goyle to grab my crutches. Just as Goyle propped them next to me, we overheard a group of people talking as they walked out of the Herbology classroom. Justin rushed past them, waving goodbye to his friends before running off.

"Dumbledore will be back before long," a Hufflepuff said to Potter. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me..." His voice dropped low, mumbling something inscrutable from where we were.

Draco and the two boys walked up behind them slowly, a cruel smile growing on their faces.

"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office," Granger said viciously as they started to walk up the stone steps. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old–"

"Now, do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Granger?" Draco boomed. "Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"You can't take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy," the Hufflepuff said.

"I know _prefects_ can't dock points from each other," Draco sneered; Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him. "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad–"

"The _what_?" Granger said sharply.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger," Draco said, pointing towards the silver _I_ below his prefect's badge. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, handpicked by Professor Umbridge."

I rolled my eyes. Handpicked by _me,_ thank you _very_ much.

"Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad _do_ have the power to dock points... So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress... Macmillan, five for contradicting me... Five because I don't like you, Potter... Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that... Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a _mudblood,_ Granger, so ten for that..."

Ron pulled out her wand, but Granger pushed it away, mouthing, "Don't."

"Wise move, Granger," Draco said, smirking. "New Head, new times... Be good now, Potty... Weasel King..."

He strode back to where I was sitting, smiling smugly. And my eyes lit up and I thought – _he's back._

But then his smile slowly fell off his face with each step he took towards me.

I sighed, trying to ignore the pang in my heart.

"Handpicked by Professor Umbridge?" I questioned. He grabbed my crutches, wrapping an arm around my waist to help me up.

"Can't have them targeting _you_ , can't I?"

I shook my head indignantly as we walked back to the common room, the three boys satisfied by their work for the day. Draco's words left a bitter taste in my mouth and I tried to restrain the curiosity. I really did. But then Crabbe and Goyle retreated up to their dormitories and Draco and I were left alone in the common room and–

"Why do you hate Muggle-borns so much?" I asked.

He sat on the sofa opposite me, his back relaxed against a pillow. He had a book in his hand, a page stuck between his two fingers as he paused mid-flip.

He looked up at me slowly, a cryptic look on his face.

"Don't you?" he asked after a beat, nonchalantly turning his gaze back down to the book.

"No. I don't."

"Why don't you?" He still wasn't looking at me, his eyes fixed on the page. But they were glued to a dog-eared edge, and I knew I had his undivided attention.

"I asked you first."

He sighed. He shifted on his seat, propping his right ankle on his left knee as he flipped to another page.

"Father says–"

"What do _you_ say, Draco?" I cut him off. "Do you truly believe that Muggle-borns are any less of wizards than we are?"

He stayed silent.

"Do you truly believe that Granger isn't as _good_ as we are?"

"It's not about being _good._ " His laughter was cold as he looked up at me. "I'm fully aware that Granger is the best in our year – _academically,_ at least _._ I'm fully aware that the Creeveys, Finch-Fletchley, and all the other _mudbloods_ in this school are adequate with magic."

"What is it then?"

"They don't deserve it." He shrugged.

"Why not?" I asked, genuine curiosity clear in the way I spoke.

He took a deep breath as he closed the book shut and placed it on the table between us. Shifting on his seat once more, he moved forward, planting his feet down on the ground and resting both his elbows on either side of his lap.

"Would you agree that because of our magic, we're more powerful than Muggles?" he asked.

My brows furrowed. "I guess? In some ways, yes."

"In all ways," he corrected.

I sighed but I nodded nevertheless. "That still doesn't answer my question."

"Why do you think we have to hide then?"

I swallowed, and I could tell by the way his brows lifted that he knew what had dawned on me.

"You know all about our history, don't you? You know how our people were burned. Hanged. Drowned." He sneered in disgust. "They even killed amongst themselves those they suspected to have magic. They murdered other Muggles just because there was the slightest chance they were one of us."

He stared at me intently, eyes almost begging me to understand.

I looked down at the hands on my lap.

"There's a whole world of wizards and magical creatures that are forced into hiding because those _worthless_ Muggles couldn't comprehend our gifts. We were brought to this world the same way they were. We belong to this earth just as much as they do. Why should _we_ conceal our identities and move around them as if we didn't exist?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, processing his words.

"I couldn't care less about them. The _mudbloods._ They're all just... _there._ Quite annoying but – irrelevant in the bigger picture.But the thing is... everytime I see them... I remember the Muggle parents they bring to Diagon Alley. Everytime I see them reading _our_ books, all I can imagine is how they're sharing our secrets to their Muggle friends. Everytime I see them taking _our_ jobs, all I could think of are the witches and wizards far more deserving than them."

I peered up at him. His lips were curled into a look of pure disdain, his eyes ablaze with indignance.

"We have to live in hiding. _Fine._ We need to pretend we don't exist. _Alright._ But to let Muggles into _our_ world when we're not welcome in _theirs?_ " He shook his head, looking very much affronted. "Where's the justice in that?"

"But it's not their fault. Muggle-borns, I mean. They didn't choose that. They didn't choose any of this."

A bone-chilling chuckle escaped his lips.

"Do you know what _guns_ are, Ava?"

 _Guns._ I've heard of them, but–

"They're Muggle weapons. One click and it can kill a human being. It can even kill _us._ "

"Our wands can do the exact same thing–"

"Yes, but with consequence. Dark magic corrupts the soul, remember? A five-year-old Muggle can shoot a gun with no effect on their _souls_ whatsoever."

My lips parted in a silent gasp.

"How many Killing Curses do you think a wizard can cast in one minute?" he asked.

"I – I don't know. At most, 10?"

"Do you know how many bullets their most advanced gun can shoot?" He paused for effect, knowing full well I didn't. "Fifty per second."

A sharp intake of a breath.

"I haven't even told you about their _bombs._ " He laughed. "If you think _our_ hatred of Muggles is bad, what do you think will happen if they find out _we_ existed?"

I think back to all the Muggle wars I've read about. They've started wars over land. Religion. _Skin color,_ of all things. Suffice to say, it is certain that they would not hesitate to start a war if they discovered our magic.

A wave of fear slithered down my spine.

"You're right. It isn't the _mudbloods'_ fault. But that doesn't mean they should be here. Their existence in itself is enough to endanger all of _us._ But to let them _study_ our magic? So they could what? Run off and exploit it just like they do with everything else on this planet?" He shook his head in contempt. "Are we supposed to simply sit around and wait until one of the _mudbloods_ decide to expose our secret to the Muggle world?"

I took a deep breath as I wrapped my arm around myself. "How do you know about all this?"

His eyes darkened as he leaned back on his seat.

"Father showed me. When I was 10. Before I came to Hogwarts. He made me shoot a gun."

My eyes widened.

He smiled icily. "He taught me the Killing Curse too. Just so I would know the difference. So he could prove a point."

I froze.

"Don't worry. I haven't killed _anyone_. He just made me practice on _birds_."

The air was thick and it felt like every inhale was filled with lead.

"Why are you telling me this?" My question was laced with a biting edge, almost enough to puncture the tension in the room.

He was silent as he pierced a glare onto the table in front of us.

"If I–," he started, his voice taut, "if I had been in any more of a foul mood _that_ night... I could have killed _you_."

And it was like someone had pierced my chest with a hundred daggers.

But then it was followed by a colossal crack. Where there should have been a loud blaring of alarm was an unexpected certainty: _he won't hurt me._

I sat up straight, jutting my chin forward.

"If you're trying to scare me away... it's _not_ working–"

He put up a hand to shut me up. He stood up abruptly and grabbed my crutches.

"Come on, lunch is about to close. Merlin knows how long it'll take for you to reach the Great Hall," he sneered, jaws clenched and eyes cold.

I took a deep breath, letting him help me up and lead me out of the common room, his words reverberating across my brain the entire way. But it didn't reach my consciousness like it was supposed to. It was as if his admission was a treasure chest far too deep in the ocean. I could see it. I could attempt to swim to it. But I could never quite reach it.

We walked up the stone staircase, Draco tight-lipped the entire time. And I never thought I'd ever miss his snarky remarks but I did. I would much rather hear him complain about how slow I was being or how annoyed he was with me, than _this._ He gave me absolutely _nothing._ No jokes, no insults, no nothing.

And it broke my heart.

After a physically and emotionally excruciating climb up the stairs, we reached the entrance hall. Students cluttered the corridors, the sound of their chit-chat reduced to a bothersome buzzing. We walked towards the Great Hall, both of us scowling at anyone who dared to look our way. And then–

_BOOM!_

Fireworks soared up and down. Dragons made of green and gold sparks emitted loud fiery blasts and bangs. Pink Catherine wheels whizzed through the air like saucers. Rockets tailed with bright silver stars bounced off the walls. Firecrackers were exploding everywhere but instead of burning out like they usually did, they grew bigger and louder by the second.

Draco was wide-eyed as he wrapped a protective arm around my waist. And despite the fear and shock that crashed through my body, it was overpowered by the gratitude I had for whichever students – that I highly suspected were Fred and George – set this up, because these days, the only way Draco would ever go near me was to protect me.

_He won't hurt me._

He hastily led us back through the door of the dungeons, closing it tightly behind us.

We were both heaving, shocked by the sudden turn of events.

I looked up at him and that was when I was made aware of the hard stone of the wall against my back. My face was only a few inches away from his chest and I could smell _him._ Wood, lavender, and a hint of something fruity. It was _nice._ Really nice.

Then he looked down at me with his stone-grey eyes and my breath hitched.

And I waited for his lips to twitch into a smirk. Waited for him to tease me about how easy it was to make me squirm. Or how I had a supposed crush on him.

He didn't.

Instead, his eyes flitted back and forth between my irises.

And I thought–

He's going to kiss me.

I tilted my head up, my eyes dropping to the pink of his lips.

Kiss me.

I stopped breathing.

_Please._

He didn't.

Instead, he averted his gaze. He backed away, a look of shock and uncertainty shifting across his face.

He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing against his neck.

In a flash, his mouth dropped into a thin-line, his eyes reverting to that piercing coldness specific to only him, and I was locked out yet again.

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _That Way – Tate McRae_


	20. Wax Seals

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Not In That Way – Sam Smith_

Tracey had been inconsolable for a good half-hour. For the entirety of yesterday, Graham Montague was nowhere to be seen. Then after dinner he turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor, having no idea where he's been or what's happened to him. He was brought to the hospital wing with Umbridge and Professor Snape, the rest of his Quidditch teammates following closely behind them.

Tracey laid her head on Daphne's shoulder as she wept.

"I thought s-something had h-happened to him," Tracey said, sniffling.

"I know," I said gently as I stroked her hair. "But he's fine now. He just needs to be checked by Madam Pomfrey."

Daphne nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Everything will be alright."

**♰**

After half an hour, Pansy and Millie came back with a cart-load of packages and mail, panting and huffing, annoyance gleaming in their eyes.

Pansy hauled the cart into our room, her face crumpling in frustration. "Just... as I was... starting... to warm up to her," she huffed.

Millie looked the exact same, hauling another cart behind her. "Umbridge wants us to inspect every single one of these."

Daphne, Tracey, and I slipped out of our beds and joined the two squad members on the floor as they tipped over the cart, letting the letters and boxes fall haphazardly. For the rest of the night, the five of us snickered at all the ridiculous packages the younger years received, read through letters for anything suspicious, stamped "INSPECTED AND PASSED BY THE HOGWARTS HIGH INQUISITOR" once they were deemed safe. We separated the ones addressed to Slytherin students, simply stamping on them without a moment's hesitation.

Before the clock struck midnight, Pansy and Millie handed the rest of the packages back to Filch while Daphne and Tracey delivered the ones addressed to our House to their respective recipients.

I sat in the common room, stretching my injured leg on the sofa as I waited for my friends to finish. That was when the Quidditch team trudged back in, scowls plastered on their faces. They all passed through the room as if I weren't there, their thoughts preoccupied with whatever it was that had them furious.

Except for Draco.

The sofa made a creak when he sat by the end of my feet and I shifted to accommodate him.

"No, it's alright," he said, staring straight at the fireplace.

"How's Graham?" I asked.

He sighed.

"He's... not well. He doesn't know what's happened to him, and Madam Pomfrey says he won't be able to play in the next game."

"Oh... that's – that's unfortunate," I said. And I could almost cry at how formal we were speaking to each other. I'm _sick_ of it. I just wanted him to come back. That's all I wanted.

"Yeah."

An awkward silence descended upon us.

My voice wavered when I spoke.

"Once the cast is removed, I can go back to practicing with you," I said, offering him a smile. "The game ends when the Seeker catches the Golden Snitch anyway so even if–"

"No. You're not."

"What?" I tilted my head.

"You're not practicing with me anymore." He was still staring at the fire, still refusing to make eye-contact.

"Why not?"

"I don't – I don't need your help anymore."

"Draco..."

"And you don't have to eat breakfast with me anymore either. So you can sleep in."

"What are you–"

"And when your cast is off, I'll tell Greengrass she can sit next to you in class again."

I inhaled a sharp breath. "Why?"

"You're right. I'm doing just fine in Transfiguration."

"But you could always do better."

" _No,"_ he said, shaking his head and pursing his lips, "I think I'm good."

I chuckled dryly, fiddling with the hands on my lap. "You make it sound like we're going to stop being friends once my leg heals."

An all-encompassing silence. It felt as though I was falling from the sky again. A drop so quick that my brain nor my heart can't keep up.

My eyes trailed up to him slowly.

"Is that – are you–"

The muscles of his jaw rippled.

"No." I shook my head, my voice trembling. " _No."_

He crossed his arms tight against his chest, glaring at the fire with such tenacity, I was afraid it would combust.

"Draco..." I called, trying to catch his gaze. "Draco, look at me," I commanded, my voice taut.

Then there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Daphne stood by the entrance of the girl's dormitory, lips pursed and eyes staring at me accusingly. In her hand were two envelopes, one with a silver wax seal marked with an intricately designed 'M'. She strode towards us, her head held up high as she silently handed Draco his letter.

"Ava." She looked down at me expectantly, her voice stiff. "Do you want to go up with me?"

I stared up at her, defiant. "No. I don't."

She narrowed her eyes. With a resigned sigh, she turned on her heel and walked up the stairs, leaving the common room empty.

The silence that followed was thick, only the sound of the fire crackling accompanying us in the darkness.

When I turned back to face him, he had ripped open the letter and he read it with an icy smile on his face, his eyes scanning the letter more than once. With a lackluster smile, he slid his thumb and his index finger on the fold before turning to me.

He looked me straight in the eye.

I swallowed. "Draco–"

"What do you think of Daphne's sister?"

I brought my head back to my neck in shock.

I tilted my head, my brows scrunching together. "What?"

He shrugged, setting the letter down on the table in front of us. "What do you think of Daphne's sister?"

"Astoria?"

He nodded.

Frowning, I said, "She – she's nice. Uh – she's like Daphne. Very prim and proper. Just a little more outgoing, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"Mother wants me to marry her," he said, pointing to the letter.

_Oh._

"Oh."

"She's disappointed with how Pansy and I's _relationship_ turned out so she suggested either of the Greengrass sisters. But seeing how Daphne hates my guts then..." He chuckled, leaning his head back and letting it rest on the back of the sofa. It was a sound I so badly missed and at that moment, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Right..." I forced a small smile. "But," I swallowed, "Astoria's only thirteen."

"Well, obviously not right now. I'll wait until we're both of age before I court her."

 _Courtship and Sacred families._ I almost forgot how traditional Pureblood wizards were.

I inhaled sharply, gulping down the lump in my throat. "Right..."

"You know I've been betrothed to different girls at least three times before," he said. "I wasn't even born yet and my mother was already planning my marriage."

And despite the ache, I forced myself to speak.

"What happened?"

"Died? Moved away? Had a falling out with my parents? Tarnished their family name? I'm not quite sure." There was bitter amusement in his demeanor and my first instinct was to sit up and be of comfort to him. But then reality quickly settled back in and my shoulders slumped.

Another deep breath. "So... now it's Astoria?"

"Could be. Mother said I could look through the Sacred Twenty-Eight list and pick from there." He chuckled. "But she supposedly needs an answer soon so she knows which family to invite for events and holidays."

The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I was made aware that I had been incessantly chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"I–," I said, "I should – I should go up. I'm tired."

His eyes softened for just a second, so quick you could barely catch it, before he clenched his jaw and nodded. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist as he put an arm around my waist to help me up. I gulped down the lump in my throat as he led me to the girl's dormitory, all the while attempting to memorize his scent and his warmth and the shape of his hand.

I allowed myself one last lingering look at his face. Trying to capture the color of his hair, the slope of his jaw, the stillness of his eyes.

He looked at me once. Then he shut the door behind him, leaving me staring at the oak wood in a dim stairway.

I stood there for an entire minute. Counting. Waiting for the sound of muffled footsteps walking back. For the rattle of the doorknob. For his voice to call my name.

_Nothing._

I limped up the stairs, my right hand gripping my crutch tightly, the other holding on to the railing to steady myself.

_Your blood's not pure enough. Your family's not rich enough. You're not pretty enough. Not smart enough. Not enough._

The tears fell.

I reached the outside of our room's door, and I faltered as my hand reached the knob. A fresh swell of frustration rose within me at the thought I did not even have a place in this entire god-forsaken school where I could weep in peace. That was when the adjacent door rattled, and out of fear of being caught, I barged into our room, slamming the door shut behind me.

Eyes snapped to me, my cheeks flushing. Out of anger, embarassment, I no longer knew.

I ran to the bathroom. Or as close to a run as I could possibly have done. It was the most inelegant thing I have ever attempted in my entire life, the thumps of my foot and the clicks of the crutches creating an uneven and awkward beat against the wooden floor.

I ignored their calls and questions, shutting the bathroom door quickly, my back pressing against it as I closed my eyes and took deep breaths.

" _Get the fuck out!_ " Pansy yelled, prompting my eyes to fly open.

She sat by the edge of the bathtub, wide-eyed, mascara smeared under her eyes and a letter in her hand.

We gasped at the same time when we realized that we were _both_ crying.

After an agonizing second, an icy laugh escaped Pansy's mouth. "What's wrong with you?" She smirked through her tears. "You've won. What's there to cry about?"

I tilted my head, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Won what?" I sniveled, wiping the bottom of my nose with the back of my hand.

"Oh, don't act all innocent," she snapped.

"I'm not... I don't know what you're–"

Her laugh emanated somewhere deep in her belly, directly contrasting the piercing cold in her eyes. It was a sight to behold.

"Won what, Pansy?"

"Draco!" She flailed the hand holding the letter in front of her. Then my eyes trailed to the ripped envelope laying on the tiled floor, sealed by green wax marked with 'P'.

Her head dropped down as her chest wracked with sobs, the sound enough to bring tears back to my eyes. I approached her cautiously, my crutches squeaking and clicking to another awkward beat in accompaniment to her blubber.

I sat down next to her, letting my crutch fall to the floor. With a tentative hand, I stroked her back.

She turned to me, her expression shifting from anguish to fury to incredulity.

"You've won," she sobbed. "And I can't even _fucking_ hate you because you're just always so _goddamn_ nice, and happy, and–" She gasped between ragged breathing.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Pansy. I thought–"

"What?" She scoffed. "That I was only after him because of his money? His status? I know that's what everybody thinks, and _fuck,_ maybe they're right. I grew up hearing his name, you know. ' _Wear this, Pansy, so you'll get Draco's attention_ ', ' _Make sure your grades are high, Pansy, you know Narcissa wouldn't want for a foolish daughter-in-law_ ', ' _Stop playing Quidditch, Pansy, that's very unladylike, the Malfoys wouldn't like that_ '–," she gasped for air as she bawled, "–and for years, I had been certain – so sure that I would marry him, that I _love_ him, that I hadn't even stopped to think if I even _like_ him."

I wrapped my arms around myself as I was overcome by guilt.

" _I'm always either too much or not enough._ "

 _"No,"_ I shook my head wildly despite feeling the exact same way. "No, you're not. You're perfect."

That was when she looked at me, cheeks pink, tears smothered all over her nose and lips.

"Do you like him?" she whispered.

I turned to face the sink in front of us, drawing in a shuddered breath.

I nodded.

I looked back at her and gone was the glare I've learned to always expect on her face.

"Do you... love him?"

My breath caught.

I nodded.

And for the first time in the entire five years that I've known Pansy Parkinson, she looked at me with complete and utter sympathy. Whatever I was feeling, she was too and that invisible wall between us was finally demolished, bulldozed by none other than Draco Malfoy himself.

She rested her head on my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Go get him."

And if it were any other day, receiving her support would have given me relief. But today wasn't any other day.

"It's not – he doesn't–"

She stood up abruptly, turning to me with her shocked, round eyes. "Don't tell me _you're_ not good enough for Malfoy either?"

I shook my head, my chin quivering.

She bellowed in frosty laughter.

"I want to murder him," she said with such resolve, I almost thought she truly meant it.

I huffed a sullen smile.

" _Fuck_. Look at us." She helped me up, leading me towards the mirror. "Look at you," she said, patting down my dishevelled hair, "and look at me," she added, wiping away her tears and jutting her chin. " _Fuck boys."_

I laughed through the tears.

" _Fuck boys,"_ I echoed.

Her eyes lit up. "We're _fucking_ beautiful and whoever doesn't appreciate that... is a piece of _shit._ "

An inappropriate laugh escaped my lips at the absurdity of our situation. Out of all the people in this world, I never imagined that Pansy Parkinson would be the one to be there for my heartbreak. And I was sure she never imagined _me_ to be the one for hers. She wrapped an arm around my waist and she laughed with me, and it almost made the heartbreak... _worth it._

All five of us slept on the floor that night. We took our sheets and our pillows and we crowded together on the floor with Tracey, Millie, and Daphne trying their hardest to cheer us up. They didn't ask questions. They gave their comfort without having to know the grave details, their presence providing solace. I fell asleep with the knowledge that despite the heartache, I was still very much loved.

**♰**

Daphne and I were left alone in the girl's dormitory the next day. Pansy and Millie left early for their Inquisitorial Squad duties while Tracey scuttered off to take care of Graham. And as Draco requested, I slept in.

I stayed unmoving on the floor, dreading the unavoidable talk I knew Daphne was going to give me. She was sitting on the desk, her back to me and I willed myself to fall back to sleep just so I could buy myself some time.

"I know you're awake," she called out, still leaning over the desk.

I sighed.

She turned in her seat, looking down at me with the motherly concern she always wears.

" _I know,"_ I said before she could even say the words.

"No." She pursed her lips. "I don't think you do."

I stretched my arms as she made her way to sit next to me. She sat crossed-leg, looking at me with quirked eyebrows. I sat up, propping the pillow on the foot of the bed behind me as Sofia sauntered towards us.

"This is the last time I'll ask you this question. Ava... you and Malfoy?"

I frowned as _my_ cat settled on Daphne's lap. "No," I said, taking a deep breath. "Just – _me._ "

She nodded, placing a hand on mine consolingly.

"Maybe it's for the best, you know–"

"But the way he looks at me, you would think–"

"–father's a literal Death Eater–"

"–but then he turns around and tells me he doesn't want me to–"

"–aunt just escaped Azkaban with all the other _Death Eaters–"_

 _"_ –but why would he say that to me if–"

"–probably already planning the world's demise–"

"–keep on running in circles and for what–"

Daphne sliced the air with her hand. "Ava! Listen to me!"

I flinched.

She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath.

Seconds passed and no one said a word. I sat still, patiently waiting for her to calm herself down. Then her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me with a new-found resolution.

"Do you remember... when the Chamber of Secrets opened? How happy he was when _Justin_ was petrified? How disappointed he was when Granger didn't _die?_ "

My eyes darted down to the blanket pooling over my legs. "He was – he was twelve... He–"

"How about all the times he called the Weasleys _poor?_ And insulted their mother because of her _weight?_ And called their father all sorts of names _?_ You grew up with them, didn't you?"

I sighed. Sofia's head turned to face me, purring as if in agreement.

"And the time he tried to get that Hippogriff killed because – what? He couldn't follow instructions?"

I wrapped my arms around myself, narrowing my eyes at the white fluff ball.

"And all the times he called Longbottom _stupid?_ Practiced curses on him? After his aunt tortured the poor boy's parents into _insanity._ "

I started chewing on the inside of my lower lip.

"And how he fed Rita Skeeter with information to defame Hagrid? Granger? Dumbledore? The Weasleys? Potter?"

"What's your point?" I asked, snapping my eyes to meet hers.

"Before this year, he would barely even talk to you because he wasn't sure if your blood was pure enough."

"Yes, but–"

"And the fact that he doesn't even talk to _Tracey_ because she's not rich enough," she laughed. "But yeah – at least he doesn't bully her, right?"

"He – he's just–"

"What about all the times he made fun of Potter for being an _orphan?_ Made fun of his _dead parents?_ " Her tone cut through like a knife and I could tell she was desperate for me to see reason.

I massaged the back of my neck in frustration.

Her eyes softened as she put a hand on mine. "In another world, he would have done the same to _you._ "

"But this _isn't_ another world. And he didn't do that to _me._ "

Daphne sighed. "I thought your type is _kind, thoughtful, and considerate_?"

"But _he is._ Underneath all _that,_ he is.You just have to look close enough. Long enough."

She gave me a languid look. As if I were a patient with a terminal disease. Or a crippled person in the heart of a burning home. Too far gone.

"Maybe to you." She smiled sadly. "But to everybody else? He's _decent_ at best, and even that's too generous."

I wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he isn't as bad as she thinks he is. But I couldn't. Because she wasn't wrong. He did do all of the things she listed, and more.

"How many months did it take for him to actually treat you with decency, Ava? How many nights did you swallow your pride out of the fear he'll send you to Azkaban?"

"I – I don't–"

"Ava... I know that this is hard to hear but... Malfoy? He is _not_ a good person. The only reason he treats you the way he does is because _you_ made him care about you. Because you're an _Adara_. Because you're the _only_ _one_ with enough patience to actually deal with him. It's not out of the goodness of his heart. It's not because he's _kind_. It's all... _circumstance._ If you were any less _you,_ he would have locked you up in Azkaban ages ago."

And I wanted to defend him. I wanted to shake my head and prove her wrong. I wanted to come up with at least _one_ excuse to justify the things he's done, but I couldn't. It was a losing game and we both knew it.

"You always see the best in people, Ava. So much so, it might end up being your fatal flaw. _Just be careful,_ alright? You know how I feel about all of it, but know this: no matter what you decide to do, I will _always_ be here for you."

"It doesn't matter what I decide to do." The resignation in my voice was undeniable.

"Why not? I'm sure you're–"

"He plans on marrying your sister."


	21. Empty Classroom

**_LISTEN_ ** _: Love The Way You Lie – Eminem feat. Rihanna_

Daphne looked as if I had slapped her. She sat frozen, eyes wide in shock and something else.

Fury, I realized when the stillness in her gaze melted away. Her eyes were wide in shock and flat-out _fury_.

" _What_?" she snapped.

"He plans on marrying your sister," I said again, my tone surly. "Or you, _apparently._ But only if you're up for it."

It shouldn't have dawned on her thatquickly. The look of belligerent confusion should have stayed in her face at least a minute longer. She shouldn't have realized what I meant the moment the words slipped past my lips.

But she did.

Because she, too, received letters with elegant wax seals. She, too, I realized – cried on the tiled floor of bathrooms with only an envelope ripped by the edges to accompany her. She, too, chased after a never-ending train of expectations and responsibilities.

She sighed, leaning back, and I could tell by the way her dark blonde brows furrowed together that she was anticipating her very own letter. And the heartbreak that ensued. She, just like the rest of them, had familial duties she had to uphold. But she, more than the rest of them, had a lot more to lose. Because she, unlike the rest of them, has found and _held_ love in the palm of her hands.

In the heart of a Muggle-born boy.

It shouldn't have felt more of a crime than my status as an unregistered Animagus. But it did. And for the umpteenth time of the month, I wept. Her face was the first to crumple. Mine followed in less than a second.

And this time, I was certain that the universe was laughing.

The rest of the week disintegrated right before my eyes. I ignored Draco just as well as he ignored me. He would be there – helping me stand, helping me walk, helping me do everything I couldn't because of my injury. But he wasn't _there._ He didn't talk to me apart from one-word instructions, he didn't look at me unless otherwise necessary, he didn't even acknowledge my existence whenever it was Daphne's turn to assist me.

Then it came. The day Madam Pomfrey asked me to return to the hospital wing to get my cast removed. I woke up drenched with sweat, my heart thundering against my chest. It had felt as if I was dropped into the middle of a crack in an ice rink. Drowning. Cold. Numb. All at the same time.

As I walked towards the bathroom to prepare for the torture that was that day, I came to a resolve: I will _not_ force something that was not for me.

I repeated the mantra as my hands glided along my body and the suds dripped down the tub. And again when I was slipping my foot into my trousers and stretching its waistband over my hips. And once more as I walked to the door with Daphne by my side.

But then we walked down to the common room and we were met with Draco's expectant gaze. He stood by the door, arms crossed as he tapped his foot, lost in thought. And for the first time in an entire week, our eyes met. Like a collision. Like the asteroids we watched from the Astronomy Tower, crashing and colliding with each other. Wreaking havoc in whatever resolution I had just an hour before.

I jolted backward as he took a step towards us, his jaw clenched and nose flared.

"I want to make the Unbreakable Vow," he said.

The room felt silent despite the buzz of the morning common room chit-chat.

I stared up at him. A little too long, but I no longer cared. That was it, I realized. That was the seal. That was the goodbye _._

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked, breaking the silence.

"For her secret. So she doesn't have to worry about Azkaban." His tone was flat. Business-like.

Daphne stammered. She frowned, a look of utter confusion flashing across her eyes.

"Okay," she drawled, eyes glazed over in thought. "Okay," she said again, this time her tone stiffened with finality.

And I never thought I would ever want to reject his offer. Never thought I would feel disappointed by it. Never thought it would cause a swell of ache in my chest. That would untether me from him for good. And seven months ago, I would have been relieved. But whatever the opposite of relief was, that is what I was feeling.

"Okay," I said anyway.

His eyes darted back to mine and – for a second, I let myself wait. _One last time._ For a smile. No matter how small. It would have been enough.

_But he didn't._

He led us up to their empty dormitory, the only place in the entire castle where our privacy could be ensured.

"Colloportus," he muttered, pointing his wand to the door. The sound of the door clicking and locking behind me was loud, piercing through the heavy silence. The air was dense, our only source of light: the teal morning glow of the lake.

We took a deep breath at the same time, our eyes snapping back to each other. _Still waiting._ For the other to say something. _Anything._

No one did.

Once again, the silence was broken by Daphne.

"Uhm – so–," she played with the ends of her blonde hair, her eyes darting around the room, "–do you want to be standing or kneeling or–?"

Draco sighed.

He grabbed me by the waist and half-pulled, half-carried me towards the center of the room. He set me down and he stood in front of me, keeping his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

With a sigh, I wrapped mine around his too.

He quirked an eyebrow, glowering at something behind me.

"Greengrass, are you capable of walking by yourself or do I have to carry you too?"

I turned my head just in time to see Daphne compose herself. With a shake of her head, she straightened her blouse with the palm of her hands as she walked towards us.

"Just for formality," Draco said once she was standing next to us. "You consent to be our Bonder, correct?"

Daphne nodded slowly, looking down at our entwined hands, baffled.

Seconds passed and no one moved.

"Daphne," I whispered. "Your wand?"

She blinked as if something had snapped right before her eyes.

"Right," she said, shaking her head once more.

She drew her wand, placing the tip on our linked hands.

I took a deep breath before speaking.

"Will you, Draco, tell no soul about my status as an unregistered Animagus?"

"I will," he said, his tone flat as he looked me straight in the eye.

The room was lit with a subtle glow of red as thin strip of flame flew out of Daphne's wand, wounding its way around our hands.

Another sharp inhale. "Will you, to the best of your ability, protect my secret?"

"I will."

Another strip shot from her wand and interlocked with the first, creating a chain that bound itself tightly around our clasped hands.

 _Silence._ No one in the room was breathing.

"Is that all?" he asked, looking behind me.

As soon as I gave a nod, he dropped my hand as though it were a hot cauldron. As though my skin had burned him. As though touching me _hurt._

I sighed.

He strode to the door, intent weighing down his steps. He opened it, looked between me and Daphne, impatience and irritation alternating across his face. Daphne and I broke out of our blank stare at the same time, scurrying to leave their dormitory.

The walk to the hospital wing was torturously quiet. Both Draco and Daphne stared vacantly in front of them as we walked. Even when we passed through a loud stream of first years exiting their classroom. Even when Potter and his friends walked past us. Even when Madam Pomfrey greeted us by the door with a smile on her face. They were ridiculously blank.

I sat on the cot, my leg outstretched in front of me as the Matron asked me a profusion of questions: ' _have you been taking the potions?', 'how does it feel when I do this?', 'and this?',_ and a great deal more. Daphne sat by my side while Draco stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed and scowling.

When Madam Pomfrey removed my cast with a flick of her wand, I caught sight of a faint sigh escaping his lips. And when Madam Pomfrey pressed on the bare flesh of my leg, checking if it hurt, and I shook my head no, I saw his shoulder slump. And when Madam Pomfrey made me stand, guaranteeing that I could walk, (" _with a slight limp for a few days"_ , she said), he gave a curt nod, walking away without even as little as looking my way.

And I shouldn't have. I have enough self-respect to not have. I promised my younger self I would never have.

But I did.

I pushed away the Matron's hand and I chased after him – or as close to a chase as I could manage.

"Ava," Daphne called, matching my pace.

I waved her away.

She grabbed my arm, forcing me to face her.

"Ava, you just got your cast removed–"

 _"No,"_ I said again, wriggling my arm out of her grasp.

It was Madam Pomfrey's turn to speak.

"Dear, your friend is right. Extraneous activities are not–"

 _"No."_ I limped after him, panic rising in my throat when I saw how wide the distance was between the two of us.

"Ava," Daphne said, matching my pace. " _Let him go._ "

" _No."_

"Ava–"

"Just _please_ let me do this. Just this once," I said, my voice quivering as I looked her straight in the eye.

She leaned back on her heel, her eyes softening. With a resigned sigh, she nodded.

I took a deep breath and I scampered after him. Clumsily. Painfully. My right leg barely catching up with the other. Pushing past students in my way.

"Draco," I called. He stood tall in the crowd of first and second years, his blond hair a shock amongst them, the buzz of the students' chit-chat muffling my voice. He kept walking.

"Draco," I called again, louder. A group of three Slytherin girls stared at me, whispering in each other's ears. He kept walking.

"Draco!" I bellowed, my voice echoing against the walls. "Do _not_ walk away from me!"

The sudden drop of volume in the corridor jolted me backward, their curious eyes sending a burning on my skin.

Draco froze, back still turned to me.

Three seconds. We stood there. A crowd of pre-pubescent teenagers staring at us.

He turned slowly, and I took an abrupt step backward at the sight.

His eyes were blazed with rage, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Five points for each student who's still in this corridor in ten seconds!"

I flinched.

Then as if the earth started shaking, the students scurried away, running around a corner or down a staircase or towards the courtyard. Running and pushing and squirming. To be anywhere but there.

In ten seconds, the corridor was empty.

And then there were two.

He stormed towards me, his eyes still fiery, his mouth still curled in a sneer. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me towards a dark and empty classroom, only letting go of my hand as soon as the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

That was when he turned to me with a look so menacing, I staggered back until my back hit a table.

"Go ahead," he snarled, taking a step toward me. "Yell at me."

"What?" I wheezed, my brows furrowing.

He took another step closer, standing only an arm away. "You're mad at me. Yell at me."

I gripped the edge of the table behind me tightly. "I'm not – why would I–"

"For _fuck's_ sake, Ava. Just _fucking_ yell at me." Another step closer, his chest only a few inches away from my face.

I jutted my chin upward, meeting his snarl head-on. _"No."_

"Yell at me," he hissed, our foreheads almost touching.

 _"No."_ I placed a fist on his chest, tilting my head up.

He took a deep breath, letting his forehead drop to mine. "Just yell at me _. Please."_ His eyes were squeezed shut, a low note of hopelessness entering his voice as the tips of our noses grazed each other.

 _"No,"_ I whispered.

And like a bandage being ripped away from bleeding skin, he jumped backward.

" _Fucking hell,_ Adara. Just get mad at me, for _fuck's sake!"_ He slammed his fist against the wooden counter next to him, the cauldrons on top of it shuddering and clanking together.

"Why? I don't understa–"

"Because you should! What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

"Only I get to decide what I feel, Draco. Stop yelling at me!"

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Here wego again! I'myelling at you. What the _fuck_ are you going to do about it?"

"Why are you always so hell-bent on getting me to be _angry_ with you?" I pushed forward, widening my stance.

" _Because_ – because I don't understand you! I don't understand any of this! So please. I'm _begging_ you. Yell at me. Tell me I'm a foul and loathsome human being. Tell me I _disgust_ you and–"

"But you don't! You don't disgust me. Not even–"

" _No."_ He shook his head furiously. "No, I don't acceptthat."

I paused, taking deep breaths. The silence weighed heavy on my shoulders as I stared at the floor.

My eyes darted up to him. "I don't understand why you're so determined to get me to hate you."

He laughed icily.

"Do you think I don't see the way people look at me? You think I don't hear the way people talk about me? Potter, Granger, the Weasleys, Chang, Edgecombe, Smith, Patil, Daphne, Pansy – should I go on?" He smirked, a frightening rage stifled under his clipped tone. "You think I'm not aware that the only reason Crabbe and Goyle are my _friends_ is because their fathers told them to? That the only reason why Pansy ever _liked_ me was because her mother pressured her to? And the rest of them are just _scared._ I am always only either hated or feared. And you–," he chuckled, "–I told you I almost killed you. _Twice._ And yet–"

"You didn't mean to, Draco. It was an accident–"

"What the _fuck_ does it matter if I meant to or not?" he snapped.

I shook my head. "You won't hurt me–"

"I've already hurt you!" he snarled.

"Draco..." I took a step towards him, attempting to steady my voice despite the trembling of my entire body. " _Please_ stop. I'm okay now. You didn't mean to. It was an accident."

He staggered backward. "No – no, stop."

"Why not?" I pleaded, halting.

"You don't know what it's like," he said, his voice dropping low as he shook his head. "To grow up with a Death Eater as a father. A crazed torturer as an aunt. A murderer as an uncle. People tend to look at you different, you know?" He chuckled, looking up at me. "But the thing is – I never knew... I never knew it was different until _you._ Until your _stupid_ eyes and _goddamned_ smile came into my _fucking_ life."

My lips parted, unable to compose a worthy reply.

"And the very little number of people who don't look at me with hate or – or fear – they all just have this savior complex, you know – they want to save me. Change me. _Fix me_. Because in their eyes, I'm _broken_." His voice was taut, as if another pull and it would snap.

I took another step forward.

"But you – _you_ look at me and I don't _feel_ broken." He dropped down to the floor, one leg stretched, one knee propped up as he rubbed on his temples with his right hand, the other laying languidly on the floor.

I sat down in front of him.

"And I waited. _Trust me,_ I waited. I waited for you to try to convince me of something. Try telling me that there was something wrong with the way I think or the way I act. And when you asked me questions, I thought – _here it comes._ But it didn't. You listened. _Even_ if you didn't agree."

"I don't understand what's wrong. Why would you want me to–"

"I _can't._ " His voice cracked. "I can't be there when it fades away."

"When what fades away?" I whispered.

" _That."_ He gestured to my eyes, his face screwed up in pain.

"It won't, Draco. I won't–"

He shook his head furiously. "You will."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because I'm just going to keep on hurting you!"

"You won't, Draco. What happened – that was an accident. You didn't mean to–"

"That's exactly the problem! I can't _fucking_ help it. I can't–"

"Yes, you can, Draco. I know you can."

"You don't know me well enough to say that."

"But I do, I know you–"

"No, you don't. You don't know–"

"I do, Draco! I know you! I know you take four sugar cubes in your coffee because you hate the bitter taste but you also can't function without it because you barely get any sleep. I know you're obsessively neat and organized and – _god forbid_ you let anyone see you with a wrinkle in your clothes. I know you write to your mother at least twice a week and _Merlin,_ I know who your favorite Quidditch player is and I know _nothing_ about Quidditch. I even know how you like to wash your hair and what shampoo you use and–"

"Just _leave._ "

The sheer force of his words felt like the shove of a giant.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I don't want to," I said, taking his hand.

He pushed it away. "Leave," he said again. His tone was arctic. A piercing and biting cold.

It was humiliating. To sit in front of someone and bare your soul to them, only for them to push you away. To be there, tears streaking down your face, pleading with them to let you stay. To swallow your pride over and over again when they can't do the same.

And I promised myself, the next time he says that word, _I will_.

I tried to take his hand _one more time. "_ Draco..."

_"Leave."_

And it was as if a boulder had fallen straight into the ground. I, the boulder, and I, the ground. The sensation of both falling and dropping and being cracked and broken. All at the same time.

With a long and shuddering breath, I stood up. I stared down at him, his blond hair stark against the dark of the room. His white button-down shirt in disarray. He had his gaze set on the ground as he heaved, each exhale creating a faint wheezing sound.

I sighed.

Each step I took towards the door was heavy, the thumps of my footsteps deafening against the quiet of the room.

I no longer allowed myself to wait. Or to hope. After being told to leave more than once, it would be idiotic for me to believe that anything I would say would ever make a difference. It was already idiotic for me to even _want_ to convince anyone, let alone a _boy_ of all things. Let alone Draco Malfoy.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the knob and–

"Wait, no, Ava. Don't – _don't leave._ "

I froze, feeling as though the wind had been knocked off my lungs. Like I had been pushed and pulled _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again. Like _fucking_ whiplash.

I turned slowly, staggering back when I met his eyes.

_"What?"_

Draco shifted on the floor, turning to face me. "Don't leave," he said, an unnerving glint of panic flashing across his eyes.

Anger rose in me like a burning flame, his words its fuel and its oxygen.

He spoke again.

"I didn't mean to, I was just–"

"You didn't _mean_ to... or you didn't _expect_ me to?" I spat, balling my hands into fists and letting my nails dig down on the skin on the palm of my hand. Hard enough to break. Hard enough to bleed.

He stood up, his eyes softened in apology. He made his way towards me, an arm outstretched. "I didn't mean–"

I stumbled back. "How _dare_ you?!" I shrieked, the shrillness of it sending goosebumps down my spine.

He froze.

"You push me away for weeks and when I finally give you what you've been asking for, you say you didn't _mean_ it?"

He said nothing.

"What do you take me for? I'm not a ragdoll you can toss around, Draco! I know you got so used to treating me like a toy and yeah – _perhaps_ it's my fault for letting you treat me like one for so long. But here's the thing," I hissed. "I am _not_ your Golden Snitch, I am _not_ your servant, I am _not_ someone you can leave and then come back to whenever you feel like it!" The tears came and I no longer had the strength to hold them back. "You – you're so _selfish._ "

Hurt flashed across his face. "Selfish? Is it not _selfless_ to want to _stop_ hurting you?"

Rage nearly consumed my entire being.

" _No – no – no._ That was you being a _coward,_ Draco! Don't you _dare_ try to make yourself feel better by saying you did it for me! You say you don't want to hurt me but what the hell do you think you did? All you do is push me away! I'm _sick_ of it."

"No, Ava. _Please_."

"Why? Why should I?"

"Because _I'm_ begging. _Me._ Begging for someone like _you._ If my father finds out about this, he'd be absolutely disgusted."

I stumbled back. " _Someone like me_?" I cried, my hand splaying over my chest. "A _filthy_ half-blood? Or maybe _mudblood,_ we can't really rule that out now, can't we?!"

He shook his head, taking a cautious step towards me. "That's – that's not what I meant."

"Don'tlie to me! That _is_ what you meant. The least you can do is own up to it!"

He looked down at his feet, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

Then he looked up at me, his silver eyes searching mine. "Isn't it enough that despite the _inferiority_ of your blood, I'm here... begging you to tell me what to do to fix it?"

That did it. Toppled the stronghold of patience I've been building since the moment I crashed into his life. I have _never_ felt the fury that overcame me. Never knew a feeling like this existed. Never knew I could ever look at someone and wish the worst things in the world unto them.

My lips started moving before my brain could process my words.

"From the _moment_ I've met you, you have been _nothing_ but arrogant, conceited, and selfish, so much so that you have _never_ even _thanked_ me for all the sleepless nights I chose to spend with you! And we both know it started because I was scared you wouldn't keep my secret, but it has grown so much more than that, and _not once_ have you ever shown me gratitude. I can't believe I had been stupid enough to think that you and I could ever be _friends!_ "

I drew a shuddered breath as soon as the words left my mouth.

On his face was a look of pure and undiluted _hurt._

The regret was automatic.

And I wanted to tell him.

My pride saw to it that I didn't. After swallowing it for months on end, it returned with a new-found force. It stood like an unfaltering warrior between me and Draco, feet planted on the ground, sword drawn and ready to attack.

I wiped the tears off my face with a frustrated hand.

In a snap, his hurt was curtained by his mask. In two strides, he was in front of me, pinning me against the wall, his hands on the space on both sides of my shoulder. Sneering.

A fresh swell of fury rose in me.

I tilted my head up, taunting. "What the _hell_ is it with you and pushing me up against a wall?"

His lip twitched, looming over me.

And for what felt like forever, we just stood there. Breathing each other's air. Chests heaving against each other.

He leaned in, his forehead grazing mine as he took a deep breath. Then like a kiss of a ghost, our noses brushed against each other. I inhaled sharply as I stood frozen between the warmth of his body and the cold of the wall behind me.

And _goddamn it,_ there it was. There it was where it shouldn't have been. Should have never been. _A glimmer of hope._

But then he took a step back. He gulped. He shook his head furiously before marching out of the room and pushing against the door with a slam.

A blinding strip of light sliced through the floor.

He left.

Like I said, Draco Malfoy was a _coward_.

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Fire on Fire – Sam Smith_


	22. Birthmark

Pamphlets, leaflets, and notices were strewn all over Hogwarts. A crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St. Mungo's in front of one. _'So you think you'd like to work in Muggle relations?'_ on another. _'Have you got what it takes to train security trolls?'_ on another. And _'Make a bang at the department of magical accidents and catastrophes!'_ on another.

Just before Easter Holidays, a notice was plastered on the Slytherin notice board:

**CAREER ADVICE**

**All fifth years will be required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the Summer Term, in which they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Times on individual appointments are listed below.**

**_Ava Adara_ ** **_– Monday 2:00 PM_ **  
**_Millicent Bulstrode – 2:10 PM_ **  
**_Vincent Crabbe – 2:20 PM_ **  
**_Tracey Davis – 2:30 PM_ **  
**_Gregory Goyle – 2:40 PM_ **  
**_Daphne Greengrass – 2:50 PM_ **  
**_Draco Malfoy – 3:00 PM_ **  
**_Theodore Nott – 3:10 PM_ **  
**_Pansy Parkinson – 3:20 PM_ **  
**_Blaise Zabini – 3:30 PM_ **

It has been a week and a few days since I last spoke – _no –_ yelled at Draco. And it was as if the entire year had been a fever dream. As if all the nights in the Quidditch pitch were a figment of our imagination. As if all the words screamed at each other never escaped our mouths.

We reverted back to how we were: barely acknowledging each other's existence.

My time was spent obsessively studying for O.W.L.s. Revisions after revisions after revisions. The excessive number of quills I bought proved to be useful since I blew past them in the past week only. I grew callouses on the sides of my fingers from all the writing. I took verbatim notes for History of Magic despite Professor Binns freakishly dull lectures. I jotted down important points in my _'Magical Drafts and Potions'_ book and I flinched when Draco and the others guffawed in laughter when Potter's potion "fell" off Professor Snape's table after the former placed it there to be marked. Even in the Great Hall during lunch, I was hunched over the table scribbling and scribbling and scribbling. And in Divination where all we did was lay in the ground and look at the stars or the smoke or whatever bizarre activity Firenze had in store for us, I was still attempting to jot down every word that came out of the centaur's mouth.

Then when I walked down Snape's office for my meeting about Career Advice, I brought a folded sheet of parchment and a quill despite already knowing everything I could about Aurorship. The scheduled meeting proved to be useless by Umbridge's mere presence as she sat there, a clipboard on her knee and a gleeful smile growing on her face as I entered the room.

"Sit down, Miss Adara," Professor Snape said.

I sat down in front of his desk, giving the two professors a polite smile.

"This meeting is to talk about any ideas you might have for your career, and to assist you in deciding which subjects you ought to take in your sixth and seventh years," Professor Snape said. "Headmistress Umbridge here has said that you would like to become an Auror, is that correct?"

Professor Umbridge smiled at me sweetly.

"It is, Professor," I said, forcing another smile.

"Very well then," Professor Snape said, shuffling through the pamphlets neatly stacked on his desk before pulling out one on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "They ask for a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s, and nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations' grade. Additionally, you would be required to undergo a rigorous series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It is a very difficult career path–"

"I'm sure Ava has it covered," Umbridge quipped, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled at me.

I plastered on another smile.

Professor Snape stared at her, his upper lip curling into a slight sneer. Then he turned back to me, his voice a tad bit more authoritative when he spoke.

"I would advise N.E.W.T.s in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Your current academic record shows aptitude for your chosen career path but I would suggest keeping your _detentions_ to a minimum." He looked at me pointedly.

My eyes darted down to the hand on my lap as I nodded.

"Auror training takes three years, and it _will_ test your ability to react well to pressure and will require high skill in _practical_ defense." He narrowed his eyes at Professor Umbridge for a second before turning back to me. "Any questions?"

I shook my head.

"Then that concludes our career consultation." Professor Snape nodded curtly.

"Thank you, Professor."

As I exited the office, Professor Umbridge towed behind me, giving me a squeeze on the arm. She leaned in, whispering brightly, "I'm sure a gentle nudge with Cornelius and we can assure you a spot."

I stiffened at her unabashed display of corruption in the Ministry. The fact was no surprise, the surprise lied in her bordering prideful demeanor.

I quickly snapped into a thankful smile before rushing out of the dungeons.

Later that afternoon, as I was walking to Umbridge's office for another session of tea and chit-chat, Fred and George came barreling through the corridors spewing green liquid all over the walls, with Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad scurrying after them. I flattened my body against a clean wall to keep out of the way as a crowd of newsmongers and onlookers trailed after them, eager to get a look at the scene.

Not before long, it was complete mayhem as everyone in the floor scuttled all over the place trying to dodge the green slime. I broke through the crowd in an attempt to retreat to the dungeons, pushing past the crowd despite the dirty looks and protests. That was when it shot through the air and hit me square in the stomach.

I slapped my hand to my mouth before I could gag.

 _Stinksap,_ I realized as the odor wafted through my nose. It smelled like a mixture of acidic vomit and Abraxan dung.

"Filch!" Umbridge shrieked. "Get the Approval for Whipping document inside my office!"

My heart sank.

That's–

No–

Filch ran up the stairs just as Umbridge went ballistic. Shrieking bloody murder for Draco and Pansy and the other squad members to stop the red-headed twins.

After three or so minutes, they were caught in the middle of a ring of onlookers. Peeves floated overhead, gazing down at Fred and George. Daphne found me in the crowd, her face crinkled in disgust and her hair covered in Stinksap.

"So!" Umbridge said with a triumphant smile on her face. "So... you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred said, looking back up at her, defiant.

Filch elbowed past us and Daphne to reach Umbridge.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," he croaked. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... Oh, let me do it now..."

"Very good, Argus," she said. "You two are," she added, looming over Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" Fred said. "I don't think we are."

He turned to his twin.

"George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," George said.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?"

"Definitely."

They raised their wands and said together, _"Accio Brooms!"_

Then came a loud crash that startled the onlookers as we whipped our heads around to look for the origin of the noise. I had just turned to the staircase when their confiscated brooms swooped through the air, down the stairs, one of them still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg from Umbridge's office. They stopped sharply in front of the twins, its chains creating a hair-raising noise as it clattered on the stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred said to Professor Umbridge as he swung his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," George added, mounting his own.

Then almost theatrically, Fred swooped his gaze to the crowd and said, "If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley – Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," George said, pointing to Umbridge.

I brought my hand to my mouth to stifle the laughter that threatened to escape.

"STOP THEM!" Umbridge shrieked. But before the Inquisitorial Squad could close in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves," Fred said to the poltergeist.

Peeves snapped to a salute as applause and laughter filled the corridors from the crowd below just as the twins sped out of the front doors and into a glorious sunset.

That was when I promised myself that when all of _this_ was over, when we've all finished our studies, when the House rivalry has become a thing of the past, I will owl them a letter. To apologize for my childishness. To invite them back to Cornwall. To rekindle our friendship. Because no matter what has happened, no matter the falling out, no matter the distance, Fred and George has been, and will always be, the brothers I've never had.

♰

The twins had become somewhat of a legend after their stint. Umbridge and Filch had an incredibly difficult time trying to clean up the swamp they've left on the fifth floor of the east wing, and once or twice, I've seen Professor McGonagall look at the site in smug gratification. Pansy and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad struggled for the rest of April as a great number of students took inspiration from Fred and George's example. There seemed to be a competition as to who the new Troublemakers-in-Chief would be as random creatures and Dungbombs and Stinkpellets appeared all over Hogwarts. It had gotten so bad to the point that it had become common practice for students and professors to perform Bubble-Head Charms on ourselves before leaving classrooms and dormitories, just to ensure a supply of fresh clean air despite the unfashionable looks of having what looked like fishbowls over our heads. It was still significantly better than the antlers Pansy had caught one day after having been hexed by a group of fourth year Gryffindors when she tried to dock them fifty points for having their shirts untucked.

Barely any progress was made in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class since students from all the other Houses have assembled into fainting and vomiting messes before we could even enter the classroom, all claiming to have "Umbridge-itis" after being shrieked at by the namesake of the sickness herself. In an attempt to take control, she put four consecutive classes in detention and upon failing to trace the source of their mysterious symptoms, she was forced to give up and simply allow the students to leave with their bleeding noses and sweat-cladded robes.

But not one of them could ever parallel the master of chaos, Peeves, who took Fred's parting words to heart. I stopped counting how many times I jumped in fright as the poltergeist soared through tables, blackboards, statues, and vases, cackling like a maniac. Not only that, he would constantly smash lanterns, snuff out candles, juggle burning torches over students' heads, almost burn Hogwarts to the ground, flooded the entirety of the second floor with toilet water, dropped an entire bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall _during_ breakfast, and followed Umbridge like a lost puppy just to get on her nerves.

On one May day after the Easter holidays (which were still spent obsessively preparing for O.W.L.s), I entered the common room only to be met with fleeting glares and side-eyes from the entire Slytherin Quidditch team.

I dropped my gaze down to the floor as I wracked through my head for anything and everything I've done in the past few days to deserve that kind of greeting. To compensate, Daphne jutted her chin out and returned all of their glares with a threatening eyebrow quirk.

Turning to me, she rolled her eyes and said, "Must be because of Malfoy."

But before I could even let her words upset me, Blaise matched our step as we walked out of the dungeons.

"How does it feel to have cost us our last remaining chance to win the House Cup?" he said, his tone teasing.

I brought my head back to my neck in shock.

"What?" Daphne and I said simultaneously.

He flashed his white teeth as he grinned. "If you think the glares you got were bad, wait till you see how they look at Malfoy."

" _Again –_ what?" I asked.

"The only reason they haven't hexed either of you is because – _oh, you know –_ Malfoy so casually threatened to have the rest of their parents sacked in whatever jobs they had if they ever go as near as talking to you."

" _Blaise_ ," I said through gritted teeth. " _What?"_

He pushed open the door of the dungeons to let us through before all three of us paused in the entrance hall.

" _Warrington_ ," Blaise explained, his brows furrowing. "You haven't heard?"

"Haven't heard what?" I said, the rising panic clear in the way I spoke.

"Warrington started screaming bloody murder in the locker room – something about his mother and her job, and then your name was being thrown around and then wands were pointed at each other and now one of them is in the hospital wing."

My eyes went round. " _What?"_

"It's not your boyfriend, don't worry–"

"He's not my boyf–"

"The problem is, we're missing two Chasers, and if that doesn't scream ' _we're going to lose',_ I don't know what will." He laughed.

I swallowed. If I understood correctly then Draco went ahead with his threat to get Cassius' mother sacked. Then a duel ensued and now–

But why would he do that?

It's been a month and a half since we've last talked so why would he–

And winning the House cup has always been his goal and it was obvious that by provoking Cassius, things were bound to go wrong.

And they were already missing a Captain and–

I rubbed my knuckles against my temples as my mind became a whirlwind of questions.

"You don't seem too bothered by it," Daphne interjected, quirking an eyebrow at Blaise.

"The cups in the Zabini house are made out of _gold..."_ He shrugged. "What do I care about a House Cup?"

Later that night, the three of us sat in front of the fireplace in the common room as I stuffed my cheeks with crisps.

"Why would he do that? I mean, Draco has always wanted to win so – I don't understand why he would–"

Blaise dropped down my revision notes on the table in front of us in exasperation. "I don't know if I want to study with you anymore. I thought you were smart but if you're this dense to the fact that–"

"Blaise," Daphne warned. "This is an important rite of passage," she said, amusement coloring her tone. "Let her figure it out on her own."

"Figure what out?" I snapped my head from side-to-side, waiting for either of them to answer my question. Instead, I was met with eye rolls and stifled laughter.

And it's not like I was stupid. I knew what they were insinuating. But–

It couldn't possibly, couldn't it? I mean, why would he if–

After everything that's been said–

 _No._ That can't possibly be it.

_Can it?_

And Blaise was right. Right before May had ended, they lost against Hufflepuff. And Gryffindor won the House Cup. _Again._ In a curious twist of fate, somehow, _magically,_ Ron managed to save the day and the 'Weasley is our King' chant was reclaimed.

They sang:

_Weasley is our King,_   
_Weasley is our King,_   
_He didn't let the Quaffle in,_   
_Weasley is our King..._

_Weasley can save anything,_   
_He never leaves a single ring,_   
_That's why Gryffindors all sing:_   
_Weasley is our King..._

Oddly enough, Draco wasn't too upset by it. In fact, he didn't look upset about it at all. He sat two benches down from where I was, his elbows resting on each leg and his head dropped between his arms. He was still when others were standing and screaming and protesting.

That was the one and only time I let _it_ sneak past my defenses. A certain longing. Sadness. Curiosity. And despite the loudness of their _what the fuck,_ and _it was a fluke_ and _the game was rigged,_ they were somehow reduced to background noise as I thought of the _why._ Why Draco would sacrifice something he so clearly and relentlessly stated to be of utmost importance to him. Something that he – _and I_ – have been working on for almost an entire school year. Something that he has been chasing even before he set foot in Hogwarts.

Where I expected chaos, there was calm. Where I expected noise, there was silence. Where I expected anger, there was indifference.

It was a conundrum.

He was a conundrum.

But even so, _O.W.L.s._ O.W.L.s was more important. So for the rest of May and the early days of June, I shoved him off my mind. Vials of Draught of Peace had become something of a staple in my schoolbag in the days prior to the examination, as well as quills, my notes, and my books. Mealtimes had been a subject of anecdotes among my friends as they recall having to wrestle me away from my revision notes, which I ignore as I mutter mnemonics to myself in a quiet corner of the common room. The teachers – _thankfully –_ have stopped giving homework and instead spent their classes reviewing topics they believed to come up in the exams.

We received our examination schedules and other details from Professor Snape during one Potions lesson.

"Your O.W.L.s," Professor Snape said as I jotted down the dates and times of our exams from the blackboard, "are spread over two successive weeks. Theory exams will take place in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will take place at night, of course."

He paused in front of his desk as he looked at each one of us pointedly.

"A word of warning: the most extreme and thorough Anti-Cheating Charms have been placed on the examination papers. The following items are banned from the examination hall." He pointed his wand to the board and a list appeared.

_ Auto-Answer Quills _   
_ Remembralls _   
_ Detachable Cribbing Cuffs _   
_ Self-Correcting Ink _

"If you think that you may somehow evade the watchful eyes of your examiners, be my guest. But let me say this now, I will _not_ assist _any_ of you in getting out of trouble. Headmistress _Umbridge_ has commanded the Heads of House to inform all students that any form of cheating will be punished most severely." His nose twitched into a disdainful cringe for just a second before he composed himself. "Any questions?"

Theo's hand shot straight up. "When will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent sometime in July."

While others felt relieved that results would not be until after the holidays, I found that it only caused me more agitation. Simply imagining all the nights I would spend alone in my room worrying about the results prompted me to rub my temples with my knuckles.

As we were walking back down to the dungeons, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned to see Theo with his head ducked, rubbing the nape of his neck as he shifted his weight from feet to feet.

I plastered on a smile. "What is it? Do you need help with anything?"

"I," he started before clearing his throat, "seem to have lost my notes on Bowtruckles. Would you – do you have – uh..."

"Oh – uh – yes, I do," I said, flipping through the excessive number of sheets of parchment in my hands. "Here." I pulled it out of the pile before handing it to him.

He looked up at me warily. "Are you sure you can–"

I waved it away, widening my smile. "Yes, yes, I'm – I'm done with it."

He nodded once before slipping past me and down the dungeons.

Monday morning came and everyone has retreated to their very own corners of the common room for some last-minute reviewing for the Theory of Charms examination scheduled for the day. Draco sat alone in front of the fireplace, his face blank as he scanned a page from a book over and over again; Pansy, Daphne, and Blaise were whispering back and forth, all looking very agitated as they peeked through their notes from time to time; Tracey recited the definition of Disillusionment Charm while Millie checked it against _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5;_ and Theo sat in the far end of the room, muttering to himself.

I sat in one of the sofas with Crabbe and Goyle doing absolutely nothing.

Well, I was meditating. _Sort of._ Taking deep breaths is a more appropriate description, I guess. Crabbe and Goyle simply did not give a flying Acromantula's arse, for whatever reason they may have that I did not care to ask about.

After a few minutes of reviewing, we all headed to the Great Hall for breakfast where it was more or less the same. Students were either hunched over a book or hung their heads low as they practiced incantations under their breaths. I swallowed another vial of Draught of Peace to keep all the food I just ate in my stomach and not in an upstairs loo.

Once breakfast was over, the fifth and seventh years loitered about the entrance hall as the other students went off to their classes. Then, at half-past nine, we were called forward class by class to reenter the Great Hall, which was rearranged to look like a gigantic classroom. The four House tables have disappeared and instead, there were many desks for one, all facing the staff-table where Professor McGonagall stood. When all of the students were seated, she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her.

Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to steady my thundering heart, I leaned over the table and started answering.

Two hours later came lunch. And then an hour later came practical exams. We repeated this cycle for the rest of the week and the next. Study, eat, test, eat, practice, eat, study, sleep. Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, a day off, the weekend, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Astronomy, and History of Magic.

Right before the last day, chaos ensued _._ Whispers of the incident with Hagrid ricocheted from the corridor walls. Umbridge and a band of Aurors hexing him just outside his hut, Hagrid lifting and _throwing_ one of them across the lawn, Professor McGonagall taking four Stunners to the _chest,_ Hagrid's fists slamming on to his captor's faces, Umbridge's desperate attempts to capture him, Hagrid running out into the night and disappearing into the darkness.

And then came the theories. Why did the spells bounce off of the half-giant? Why did Umbridge and Dawlish ambush him? Was it _really_ necessary to use excessive force on 60-year-old McGonagall?

Most importantly, what the hell was happening to Hogwarts?

On our last day, we were in the middle of the History of Magic examination and as I was reading item number ten: _Describe the circumstance that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to–_

There came a thud from behind me. Harry Potter was on the floor, screaming and writhing and grasping the scar on his forehead. His chair laid on the floor next to him, the metal of its feet still vibrating against the wood.

I jolted on my seat as a strike of fire burned through my birthmark _._ I grasped at it, doubling over my desk as a hammering sensation surged through the top of my head. The cold of the golden wings soothed the heat on my chest, but the panic burned through the lining of my stomach.

When Professor Tofty made haste to Potter, I took another vial of Draught of Peace from the inner pocket of my robe and downed it in one sly movement.

Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight.

It was both a blessing and a curse to not have been the chosen ones. To not have been the heroes of the school. To not have a title to live up to. The blessing was survival. No villain out to kill us. No yearly near-death experiences. No expectations. The curse was ignorance. Because while they go out there to fight and save the day, the rest of us were just... _here._ Oblivious to whatever danger lied in wait.

So I sat there, leaning over my desk as a searing pain spread through my chest, all the while all eyes were on Potter as he battled through _his._

And when he left the room escorted by the examiner, he seemed to have taken the fire with him. The burning left, as well as the headache that came along with it. It was as though it was never there. And for a second, I had doubted myself.

But it _was_ there. This time I was certain of it.

It was there.

Just like it was the day of the Triwizard Maze when Potter came back with Cedric Diggory's dead body.


	23. The Second War

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Goodbye – Apparat_

It was a sunny day in June when the world fell apart at the seams.

I've always wondered if that was the day we had been damned. Or was it the day the Sorting Hat sat on top of our heads and yelled _'Slytherin!'?_ Or have we always been condemned to our paths from the moment we came into this world?

It certainly isn't _fair,_ don't you think? To be forced to fight the war our fathers waged. To watch someone you have known since he was only eleven clench and unclench his fists as the news of his father's crimes were announced to the world. To see the world condemn the boy you love and reduce him to the worst sins his family has committed.

 _Sixteen._ Draco had only turned sixteen when it happened.

After our last exam for the year, the Inquisitorial Squad was called upon once again. Another stint with Potter and his band of heroes. I paced in front of the fireplace, a heaviness coiling in the depths of my stomach as I waited. Ignorant to the fact that the world we once knew will never look the same again.

An hour passed. Nothing. Daphne, Blaise, Theo, and Tracey sat on the black leather tufted sofa, smiles on their faces, relief in the air after having finished one of the two most important exams in our time in Hogwarts. No one knew something had gone wrong. I certainly didn't. And if it weren't for the burn on my chest earlier that day, I would have sat with them in complete oblivion.

That was when Pansy burst into the common room, bruises covering her arms and a fiery glare in her eyes. Blaise shot right up and was by Pansy's side in a second.

"Everyone else is in the hospital wing," she fumed. "It was that Weasley girl. She cast a Bat-Bogey Hex and–"

"Is Draco okay?" I asked, the panic settling somewhere under my ribcage.

She shook her head miserably. "He's got it the worst, the bats just kept attacking him. The others were stunned, disarmed, then _stupid_ Longbottom cast _Impedimenta_ on the entire room and everyone fell backward and..."

I plopped down on the sofa, wringing my hands together as Pansy was ambushed with a plethora of questions. She groaned, plopping down next to me before recounting what had happened.

"Potter was caught using Umbridge's fireplace, refused to admit who he was contacting, Umbridge threatened to _Crucio_ him, Granger started bawling about Dumbledore and some weapon they were hiding – and _Salazar,_ Millie should have tightened her chokehold on the bitch, I really _cannot_ stand her." Pansy rolled her eyes. "Then they left to go to the Forest, I think? Now no one knows where Umbridge is and the blood traitors escaped and – _fuck –_ I should have never joined this shit."

Later that evening, the disbanded Inquisitorial Squad returned to the dungeons, bruised and battered and beaten. The air was somber. No one was speaking. None of us had any idea what had happened or what was about to happen. For a brief moment during that night, Hogwarts was left unprotected. No Headmaster or Headmistress. No High Inquisitor. No Deputy Headmistress. Two out of eight prefects in our year missing. The Boy Who Lived out doing Merlin knows what.

Then morning came. Dumbledore had returned. Potter and his friends were in the hospital wing. Hagrid was back in his hut. Umbridge was seen being dragged out of the Forbidden Forest. And every hand in the Great Hall gripped a copy of the Daily Prophet.  
  


**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS**

_In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is active once more._

_"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord – well, you know who I mean – is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord – Thingy."_

_"We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month."_

_The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more."_

_Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening._

_Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power._   
  


I flipped through the pages wildly.

 _You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over,_ pages two to four. _What the Ministry Should Have Told Us,_ page five. _Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore,_ pages six to eight. _Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter,_ page nine.

And then finally, _Death Eaters Walked Among Us,_ page 13.

Lucius Malfoy's scowling face. Bandaged. Shackled. _Disgraced_.

Before I could scan through the article, a loud slam echoed through the Great Hall, plates and utensils clanging against each other as it vibrated across the entire Slytherin table. Draco's pale face had turned red, the knuckles on his fist bleeding, and his copy of the Daily Prophet crumpled and ripped apart. With a furious groan, he stormed out of the Great Hall with blatant disregard to anyone who stood in his way.

No one dared to protest as he pushed past them.

I know _now_ that my life would have been a lot less painful if I had just sat there and eaten my breakfast. If I had just _let him go_ like everyone wanted me to. If I had just stayed away.

I didn't.

I stood up and I chased after him, ignoring Daphne and Blaise and Pansy and Millie and Tracey and even Theo's protests. Ignoring their _not right now,_ and _it's dangerous,_ and _he might hurt you._

 _He won't hurt me._ I was certain.

I rushed out of the Great Hall, ignoring the disapproving glares and worried looks from ghosts and wizards alike. I pushed past the crowd of whispering third and fourth years loitering in the entrance hall, surely gossiping about the last time I chased after Draco outside of an empty classroom. I scurried down the dungeons, piercing through a school of sixth year Slytherin girls who looked at me as if I were walking towards a fire-breathing dragon. And even when Miles Bletchley, a seventh year Slytherin who I've never even spoken to warned me not to follow Draco, I walked past him too. I walked up to the boy's dormitory and marched into their room like the _idiot_ that I was.

It was in shambles. Books were thrown all over the place. Clothes were strewn all across the floor. Random objects flew across the room as Draco slammed his fist against the wall next to his bed.

I gasped as a bottle of ink came barreling past my head and onto the wall behind me with a piercing crash. Draco snapped his head to me, his eyes blown wide with rage and shock.

"You're a _fucking_ idiot, aren't you?" Draco spat, pointing his wand at me. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

I squared my shoulders and jutted my chin out as I strode towards him.

"Get the _fuck_ out of my room." His tone was threatening, his teeth bared.

I kept walking.

"Get the _fuck_ away from me, Adara, or else I'll–"

"You'll what?" I challenged, pausing an arms-length away. I crossed my arms over my chest, quirking a brow at him.

His lips twitched into an icy smile. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he said. "I spent a few months _using_ you and now you think you're _special?"_

I took another step forward, looking up at him with equal tenacity.

He glared at me. "You are _nothing_ to me. You mean _nothing_ to me. And if you think I won't hex the _fuck_ out of you if you don't leave this room right now–"

I grabbed one of his hands, forcing him to point his wand directly below my jaw. My head pushed up as its tip dug into my skin.

"Go ahead," I said, my eyes narrowing. I grabbed his other hand and forced him to wrap it around my neck. " _Hurt me."_

He stared down at me, fury overtaking his sculpted face.

I stared back up at him, even as his grip around my neck tightened. "Hurt me. I _dare_ you."

My heart was thundering against my chest and I was certain he could feel my pulse on the palm of his hand. He tilted his head, letting his wand drop to the side and adjusting his grip around my neck. Tighter, forcing my head up higher. His thumb grazed the skin below my jaw, sending goosebumps down my spine.

"Do it," I spat, wrapping a hand around his to force him to tighten his grip even more.

His gaze was set on my neck, his chest heaving. "What are you doing?" he snarled under his breath.

My hand slid down to his wrist, drawing a streak of blood from his knuckles and down the back of his hand. "What you wanted me to do two months ago," I said, my voice raspy.

" _Why?"_ His hold had loosened, his thumb trailing the line of my jaw.

"Because I want to," I whispered. "Because you deserve someone who's going to be there for you."

His eyes had darted from my neck to my lips, the palm of his hand sliding down to the base of my neck. "And you think you're that person?"

"I know I am."

He shook his head. "I don't _need_ anyone to be there for me."

"I don't care."

A frosty laugh escaped his mouth as he squeezed my neck slightly. "We're not friends anymore, remember?"

"I don't care," I said again despite the growing constriction around my throat.

His lip curled into a sneer. "You don't talk to me for weeks and–"

"Well, I'm here now."

He said nothing.

I closed the distance between us, his hands dropping to his sides as I stood on the tips of my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. I burrowed my face on the breadth of his shoulder, hoping that the gesture was enough to send my message. That I missed him and that I was sorry. That I didn't mean to hurt him and I knew he didn't mean to hurt me either. That _I love him._

None of these I say out loud.

Not out of fear that he wouldn't reciprocate. Not because I feared he wouldn't love me back, but because I feared he wouldn't know what to do with the love I'm so willing to give. I feared he wouldn't recognize it, and that in itself would break my heart.

Seconds passed and he was as still as a statue, his hands still stuck to his sides. Feeling as though I've only made him uncomfortable, I drew back.

Before I could, his arms snaked their way around my waist in a tight embrace, prompting me to draw a shuddered breath as I was lifted off the floor. He nuzzled his face on the crook of my neck, breathing me in.

I breathed out a sigh.

"I'm here, Draco," I whispered into his ear. "I'm always going to be here."

He held onto me tighter, one of his hands moving to the back of my head, his fingers tangling into my hair.

"Swear it," he whispered, the heat of his breath fanning down my shoulders.

I stiffened.

With a gentle tug on my hair, he drew my head back, his hand splayed across my back even as my feet met the ground. His eyes scanned every inch of my face.

I swallowed thickly, my blood running cold at the look of desperate possessiveness he carried on his face.

I reminded myself that this was _my_ doing. I did what I had to do to ensure my freedom and this was the consequence. So in spite of the fear, I promised: "I swear, Draco. I'm _always_ going to be here."

The muscles on his jaw rippled as he stared down at me, his grey irises reduced to thin rings around the black of his pupils. I was suddenly made aware of his fingers on the nape of my neck, of his thumb on the back of my ear, of his other hand dangerously low down my spine.

I averted my eyes, straightening my posture.

He dropped his hand to his sides.

I wrapped my arms across myself. "I'm sorry," I said. "For everything. For missing your birthday. And – and for what I said back–"

"Just forget about it." He shook his head, brushing his hand across his hair. "It didn't mean anything. Ididn't mean _any_ of it."

 _"Oh."_ I frowned. "Yeah. I – I didn't mean _any_ of it either."

Our gazes caught each other, transfixed.

He blinked. " _Right."_

I blinked. " _Right."_

Then the doorknob rattled. I turned around just in time to see the door swing open.

Blaise's eyes went wide at one look around the room. "What the fuckhappened?" Then he caught sight of me and in a flash, his wand was pointed at Draco. "Malfoy, what the fuckdid you do to her?"

" _What?"_ I said, stepping between them.

Blaise looked at me incredulously. "You have blood on your neck and your arms. What the fuck hap–"

"Oh," I said, bringing my fingers to my collarbones and inspecting the blood. "It's not mine. It's–"

"It's mine," Draco interjected, stepping in front of me.

Blaise's eyes went round, pointing his wand at _me._ "What the fuck did you do to him?"

" _Nothing,"_ I said, stepping to Draco's side. "It's not what it looks like."

Blaise frowned, a look of contemplation and confusion alternating across his face as he lowered his wand. He stared at us for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing at least thrice.

Then he sighed, shrugging. "I don't even want to ask. _Adara –_ you do you. You're smart. I trust you. _Malfoy –_ I am here for you. Whatever you need. If you want to beat up Potter, just let me know."

He walked towards his bed, nonchalantly ignoring the broken pieces of glass by the door, the ink on the wall, the mess on the floor, the blood on Draco's–

 _Blood_.

I grabbed a small vial of Essence of Dittany inside my robe and at the same time, reached for Draco's hand. I uncorked the vial with my teeth, pouring drops of the potion on his knuckles.

He hissed as the skin mended itself together, his nails digging into my palm. In a few seconds, his hand looked good as new.

I absentmindedly let my thumb graze his porcelain skin, noting the contrasting textures of his callouses and the smoothness of his palm.

I dropped my hold as soon as I remembered myself.

"You keep a first aid kit on you at all times now?" Draco asked, already back to his snarky remarks.

I rolled my eyes, a small smile curling on my lips. "I do, actually."

He summoned the nearest shirt on the floor with his wand. Then with a tentative hand, he used it to wipe away the blood on my neck, his other hand gently tilting my face up. And then his palm grazed down the length of my shoulder, his thumb brushing past my collarbones before he ran the fabric down my arms. A foreign ache grew between my legs as his skin swept against mine, my breath hitching as I squeezed my thighs shut. All the while, his light brown lashes lidded his eyes as he kept his gaze stuck on his task, completely oblivious to how flustered I've become because of him. That was when I let myself wonder. Wonder how someone so _cruel_ can be so kind. How someone who used to be the subject of my nightmares turned into the subject of my dreams. How someone who everyone thought to have an ugly heart look so _beautiful._

He was a paradox.

A cruel but beautiful paradox.

♰

It had been three days since I had come home to Cornwall. A week since I made up with Draco. A day before the term ended, Professor Umbridge was chased out of Hogwarts by Peeves, alternately whacking her with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Then the last evening at school arrived. The end-of-term feast. And while the rest of the school celebrated, our table was nearly in complete silence. The days prior, all the Prophet talked about was the incident in the Ministry. Details were fleshed out. Sirius Black, who everyone thought to be a mass murderer, turned out to have been framed. Bellatrix Lestrange, one out of twelve Death Eaters who fought in what was now called _Battle in the Department of Mysteries_ had managed to escape and was being pointed as the killer of Sirius Black.

Just in one night, an uncle Draco's never even met had been murdered by an aunt he last saw when he was just a baby. The father he adored was now considered to be the scum of Wizarding society and wizards and witches feasted on the fall of the House of Malfoy.

Then the search began. They ransacked Malfoy Manor for evidence against Lucius Malfoy. Looked for trails that pointed to other Death Eaters in hiding. Every person even mildly associated with the suspects were interrogated. Interviews with the Parkinsons, Bulstrodes, and Greengrasses simply because they were seen in attendance at the many soireés held in the Manor.

The train ride back to King's Cross was glum. Everyone in Slytherin was on edge as they worried for their parents. Worried about the incident's implication on our House. The House that everyone already believed to be _pure_ evil. People I have never _even_ talked to started looking at me differently because of the color of my tie. Because I stood by Draco and by my House despite everyone's contempt and disdain.

Funny how when it comes to Slytherin everyone conveniently forgets that we were just children _._ We came to Hogwarts to study magic, just like every other student in that godforsaken school _._ Not to become whatever evil entity they all painted us to be. They act as if we had a choice. As if every single one of us went up to the Sorting Hat wishing in our tiny 11-year-old brains to get sorted into Slytherin and become _"bad."_

I ask again: where does condemnation begin? Because despite popular belief, I certainly did not wish to end up here. If I had known the picture they so desperately wanted to paint, I would have asked the Sorting Hat to place me in Ravenclaw... or Hufflepuff... or Gryffindor. Just to save me from all the prejudice I had to face because of the green and silver lining of my school robes. Would my preference even have made a difference? Would I have even been given a choice?

People kept preaching about _choice_ but what people fail to see is that choice is a privilege. I did _not_ choose to become an orphan. I did _not_ choose who got to adopt me. I did _not_ choose the House I was sorted into. I did _not_ choose for the only father figure in my life to die. I did _not_ choose to crash into Draco Malfoy's life that fateful night in September.

Draco did _not_ choose the family he was born into. He did _not_ choose to be taught what he was taught. He did _not_ choose to grow up the way he did.

None of us _chose_ to live through a war.

I sure as hell did not choose to come home to an Auror waiting inside our house to interrogate me because of my association with Lucius Malfoy's son. Apparently, the two nights I was caught past curfew with Draco was _incredibly_ suspicious, and that if I knew something, I better step forward now or else face charges for _aiding and abetting._

I have always known the corruption and the malpractice within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Always so eager to point fingers just for the sake of being done with it. It was one of the many reasons why Aster chose to step down as Head of Magical Law Enforcement just before the First Wizarding War. The Minister at that time pressured him to take desperate measures to end the war as quickly as possible. To show blatant disrespect to wizard life and wizard rights. Aster frequently told me that he was tasked to perform the Unforgivables to those being investigated, even those who have not been acquitted. With his Gryffindor righteousness intact, he asked for a demotion. He stepped down only for someone else much more brutal to take his place.

 _Barty Crouch Sr._ The one with the Iron Fist. The Head of the Magical Law Enforcement who legalized the use of Unforgivables. The man who sent his own son to Azkaban. The would-be Minister if he hadn't lost to Cornelius Fudge.

So two nights after being interrogated by an Auror who went by the name Savage, I suffered through another dinner with Eleanor and Aunt Lara, who suspected I was either dating the son of a Death Eater or was being recruited by one.

I marched up the stairs in exasperation after another subtle – but not so subtle – _talk_ on safety and how important it was that I did not get _pregnant_ before I was ready for children, then suddenly shifting to how dangerous it was to join _extremist_ groups, followed by my reminder that I was not _in fact_ dating anybody and _definitely_ not thinking about becoming a Death Eater.

I plopped down on my bed, massaging my forehead with the palm of my hand, all the while thinking of the mess that this stupid _Lord Voldemort_ had made in my life and everyone else's.

I had just turned over to my side to reach for Sofia when a sharp knock on my windowsill gave me a fright. I scuttered to the far edge of my bed, pointing my wand at the black-hooded figure floating on a broomstick just outside my bedroom. My heart hammered against my chest as I moved further back, toppling over a vase on my bedside table, its crash on the floor causing me to jump.

A strong gust of ocean wind came, the hood falling off his head and down his shoulder.

Then I was met with a shock of blond hair.

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Trauma – NF_


	24. Bedroom

My hand hastily fiddled with the latch of my window as I watched Draco grow increasingly pale. A cold burst of wind entered my room when I managed to pull it up, the glass pane rattling from the abruptness of the force. His hands grabbed the windowsill, panting as he hauled himself into my room, his broom haphazardly falling by the hem of my curtain.

I stared at him, frozen and wide-eyed as he crawled on my bedroom floor.

Propping himself up with his elbow, his whitened lips curled into a smirk. "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

I flinched as though someone had snapped their fingers in front of me. "What are you doing here?" I whispered.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and onto the hardwood as he chuckled, his broad shoulders expanding with every heave. I dropped down to the floor in front of him, brushing away the hair from his face. He shifted on his back, letting himself lay his head on my lap.

"Draco, you look – you look like you're about to faint," I said, worry thinning my tone. I summoned a lone jumper strewn by the foot of my bed. With a delicate hand, I patted on his forehead and his temples, wiping away the beads of sweat.

"I am," he said, a small smile on his pale lips.

" _Merlin,_ what are you – why are you – _what_?"

"Water," he said, his voice raspy.

I pointed my wand to my bedside table. " _Accio_ cup." As soon as the glass met my hand, I uttered _"aguamenti_ " and a cold stream of water flowed out of my wand. With an arm under his shoulder, I helped him lift his torso up to drink.

He grimaced into the cup, wincing with every gulp. He sighed after chugging the water, his head falling back down on my lap. His eyes squeezed shut as he took deep breaths.

"Draco," I whispered. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes fluttered open, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "I have blessed you with my presence and this is how–"

" _Draco_ ," I said pointedly, my gaze sharpening.

He sighed, the smirk falling off his face. "I just... I needed to – _get out._ Just for a night and–"

I swallowed. "What–," I said. "Has... uh – has something happened?"

He averted his eyes. The muscles on his jaw rolled as he frowned. "You said you won't ask questions."

I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip, the arm under the nape of his neck growing numb with the weight of his head resting on it. " _Right._ Yeah. Sorry."

He looked up at me, his eyes carrying an unfamiliar melancholy inside them.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, his voice deadened.

A sharp pang pierced through my gut at one look at his face. The darkness under his eyes. The shallow dips under his cheekbones. The look of utter defeat. An unbearable itch to find out what had happened overwhelmed me.

"Of course not," I said, my lips twisting into a wry smile.

He nodded once, his mood dampened. He sat up and looked out the window, his back expanding as he continued to take deep breaths.

"Do you – what do you need? Do you want food? Are you hungry?" I asked as I brought myself up from the floor.

"It's fine," he said, waving me away.

"Draco," I said. "Have you eaten dinner?"

He shook his head.

"I'll get you food. Do you need clothes? My bathroom's right over there." I pointed to the white door next to my closet.

He gave a curt nod before standing up.

I walked towards my bedroom door, my hands hovering over the knob. "Lock my door, alright? I'll knock thrice. Oh – and fresh towels are under the sink."

Another silent nod.

With a sigh, I walked down to a now-vacated kitchen. I opened the icebox to get leftovers from dinner earlier, recasting the cooling charm before closing it shut. With my wand pointed at the food container, I uttered, " _Calfacio."_ The smell of _bulgogi_ wafted through the kitchen as I transferred the recently warmed leftover beef and rice to a plate, adding a small dollop of _gochujang_ on the side. Setting everything up on a plate, I grabbed a small cup of no-melt ice cream and a glass of water before walking up the stairs.

I rapped on the door three times.

I froze as a shirtless Draco opened the door, a towel around his hips, another around his shoulders. He held his left arm close to himself, water droplets scattered down his chest and abdomen and even on the protruding muscles around his hip bone and down the v-shaped line leading to his–

I staggered back, a blob of water jumping out of the cup and onto the tray.

The sound of my aunts' laughter from the sewing room snapped me back and in panic, I scurried into my bedroom. I practically galloped to my bed, clumsily setting the tray down my side table. I dropped my gaze to the floor, my back still turned to him.

"I – I didn't know if you liked spicy food – or if you even like Korean food. You see – Eleanor's mother is from Korea so... uh – she taught Vinny how to cook Korean food. But if you don't like it, I can cook something else... Vinny – uh – our elf – she – uhm – she's been teaching me how to cook and – you know what, I'll just – I'll cook something else," I said, grabbing the tray from the table. "You probably wouldn't like–"

"Adara," he said, his voice growing alarmingly close as he walked towards me. "Our elves were taught international cuisine. I've had bulgogi before. Relax."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "Alright," I said, scurrying to the other side of the bed. I turned around, my eyes falling on his torso. " _Clothes,"_ I exclaimed, my eyes darting to the ceiling. "You need clothes."

I hurried towards my closet, shutting the door behind me. I threw my head back, taking three calming breaths. _One_. An image of his jugular flashed through my mind. _Two_. My towel around the breadth of his shoulders. _Three._ Water dripping between the muscles of his abdomen.

I shook my head furiously, desperately trying to think of something _disgusting –_ anything, really. Anything else but _that._

My head snapped to my reflection in the mirror in front of me, a fresh flush reddening my cheeks at the realization of what _I've_ been wearing all this time. White silk shorts, a matching camisole trimmed with lace, and _no bra._

I slapped my hands to my face, willing myself to calm down.

I summoned a robe with my wand, rushing to put it on and cover myself. I rubbed my knuckles on my temples, taking deep breaths before scouring the bin of men's clothing I've stolen from Eleanor's atelier. I grabbed a plain white shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

I opened the door slightly, the hand holding his clothes creeping out the narrow space. I cleared my throat. "Draco – uh – your clothes."

I heard his footsteps against the hardwood floors as he walked towards my closet. He took the shirt and the pants in silence. Just as I was about to close the door, he said, "Do you have something longer?"

I frowned.

"A long-sleeved shirt or something." And even with a door between us, I could sense his cautiousness, his tone tentative.

"Oh," I said, perplexed. "Yeah, sure."

I scoured for a shirt fitting his request and instead found a knitted black long-sleeve jumper, albeit a little too thick for the weather.

I slipped my hand past the door. "This is the only one I could find."

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "This is fine."

I listened to his footfalls as he walked away.

After ransacking my closet for extra blankets and allowing him a few minutes to change, I cautiously slipped out the door, keeping my eyes on the floor to avoid unintentional peeping. My gaze trailed to my desk, where he's brought the tray, as he devoured the food as though he hasn't eaten in hours. I frowned when I realized he must not have.

My brows furrowed. "Did you really _fly_ all the way to Cornwall?"

He looked at me incredulously. "No, Adara. I _apparated."_

And despite the overt sarcasm, it still slipped past my mouth.

_"Really?"_

He looked away in exasperation. "Yes, _really_. I haven't had apparating lessons nor am I old enough to get a license but _sure,_ I apparated."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I walked to the side of my bed. "What is _your_ problem? I was just asking–"

"It was a _stupid_ question," I heard him say from behind me as I placed the blankets on the floor.

I sighed.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," I heard him say, accompanied by the creak of a chair scooting back.

I glared up at his approaching figure. "This is _my_ bedroom. _I'm_ not sleeping on the floor eith–"

"Then let's just share the bed." He shrugged, sipping on the glass of water in his hand.

I stared at him, my mouth agape.

"Let's share the bed," I said, laughing in mock-merriment. "Why didn't _I_ think of that?"

He rolled his eyes. "Can you stop being sarcastic and let–"

"You first," I retorted, standing up and crossing my arms.

"For fuck's sake, Adara. We've slept in the same bed before. I don't understand why it's all of a sudden a problem for you. Oh and – _mind you_ – my bed in Hogwarts is a _lot_ smaller than this one and I had no problem sharing that one with you."

I swallowed thickly, realizing that whatever reason I had as to why it was a problem _now_ was something I was both physically and mentally incapable of saying out loud.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth.

He placed the glass of water on the bedside table nearest to him before plopping down on _my_ side of the bed.

"That's my–," I started to say. I sighed. "Nevermind."

He settled inside my duvet, groaning as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Shh," I said, reprimanding. "If Eleanor finds out you're here, I'm _dead_."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." He pointed his wand at my door, casting the Silencing Charm. "Now can you shut up?"

A scowl formed on my face. "What is your _problem_? If you think for one second, I'll let you talk to me like that then–"

"A lot has been going on, _alright_ ," he said, raising his voice. "I flew all the way here expecting _you_ but instead I found this _bitch–"_

"Do _not_ call me that," I said through gritted teeth. "You have no right."

He closed his eyes as he took deep breaths.

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him.

Then his eyes fluttered open, his frustration now stifled beneath a faux calm. "You're right," he said, sitting up abruptly. "I'll just – leave."

"What? _No,_ Draco. _Stop."_ I sighed in exasperation. I sat down on the empty side of the bed, fidgeting with the fabric of my blanket. " _Stay,"_ I said. "You can stay."

Refusing to meet his eyes, I slipped under the sheets, laying down on my side to face him.

After a few seconds, he laid back down, and in spite of the expectation, a jolt of shock still ran through me as his face met mine.

I gave him a wan smile.

"So..." I said, playing with the fabric between us. "I can't ask questions?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening.

"What can I do then?" I asked, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip as my eyes fluttered to his.

In one swift movement, he's pulled me closer to him. His arms made their way under my neck and around my shoulders, his chin resting on the top of my head.

I stiffened.

"Just – be _here_ ," he whispered, his fingers stroking my back.

"I am," I said, my fingers curling around the fabric of his jumper. "I will."

He nodded, sighing as he held on to me tighter.

And for a moment, I let myself melt into him. Let myself take comfort in him. Let myself be held by him, because Merlin knows just how long I've _wanted_ this. Wanted him despite everything that's been said and done. Despite everyone's objections and disapproval.

But as a comfortable silence ensued, my mind started running.

I stared at the skin peeking through the neckline of his jumper, all the while _hating_ myself as my brain automatically created a list of his newfound weak points. Hating the whispers in my mind as I realized just how important I've made myself. Hating that I did too well of a job in making him care about me. Hating that I _enjoyed_ it.

I tried _so_ desperately to push the thoughts away from my head, but I couldn't. They pierced through the barriers of my mind, intruding on every happy memory I had with him.

_He only likes you because you've created a curated version of yourself fitting to what you already knew he liked._

_You don't even know where the line was drawn. You don't know what parts of you were real and what parts weren't. You didn't even bother to draw a line. That's how despicable you are, Ava. Self-serving and manipulative. You are a hypocrite. You don't deserve him._

_He doesn't know the real you. He wouldn't like the real you. This is all fake. You are a_ **_fake_ ** _._

I drew my head back so I could get a glimpse of his face. And I hated how his gaze sent an overwhelming warmth to my chest. And how every inch of my body that wasn't held by him felt painfully cold. And how I would give anything to freeze time and stay like that for however long the universe gives me.

So I did.

I reached for my wand under my pillow, careful not to disturb his hold on me, and under my breath, I muttered, _"Tempus Concesso."_

Time froze. Everything in my room froze. Even Draco. He was unblinking, his hand on my back unyielding, his body as still as a statue.

I brought my hand to his face, letting my fingers trace the line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the dips under his cheekbones. Letting myself memorize everything that my mind was capable of memorizing before the spell wore off.

_Would you still look at me the same if you knew that everything I did for you was for me too? Would you still hold me the same if you knew that I watched every small movement on your face and I acted according to what I knew you needed? Would you still feel the same if you knew I've been deceiving you for months?_

I laid there for a few seconds before drawing my hand back to my chest.

Then returned the sway of the curtain, the faint squeak of the bed, the slight rattle on the glass of the window.

He blinked as if nothing was amiss.

His hand found the small of my waist, his finger brushing against the skin exposed between the waistband of my shorts and the hem of my camisole. My breath hitched, a thrum of _want_ sparking a fire in the depths of my stomach.

I felt _filthy._ Wanting someone I've tricked into this.

Wantingsomeone meant for _someone else._ Being in bed with someone _betrothed_ to someone else. Someone betrothed to my best friend's sister.

 _Not officially,_ my brain offered stupidly.

As if the technicality would somehow ease the guilt. As if my consciousness would allow it.

"Draco," I whispered suddenly. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

I took a deep breath. "Do you–," I paused, inhaling sharply, "–like me?"

He drew back, his forehead puckering together. "What?"

I flushed. "I mean – after you made the Unbreakable Vow... do you still like me the same?"

He frowned. "I guess?"

"But you called me a bitch earlier."

"That wasn't–," he drew his head back further, "–I didn't mean it."

"But what if you're right? What if I am?"

"You're not," he said, shaking his head.

I pursed my lips into a thin line. I shifted away from him, lying on my back. "I am," I insisted.

 _"No._ You're not." His tone was clipped, a held-back frustration stiffening his voice. "What's this about?"

I stared up at the ceiling, counting the crystals on the chandelier.

My voice was meek when I spoke again.

"Do you... remember how you called me naive? Questioned why I let people take advantage of me?"

"I don't understand where you're going with this."

"You were wrong," I said, staring at the ends of his blond hair.

He sat up, facing me. "What are you–?"

"I make myself useful so people can use me," I admitted, looking back up at the ceiling.

"Adara–," he said, shaking his head in confusion.

"You know how I let everyone copy my homework?" I said, my voice faltering. "And how I let Pansy talk to me the way she does? And how I let _you_ treat me the way you did?"

He was silent.

"I know everyone thinks I'm _so_ nice and polite and helpful," I said, a small chuckle escaping my lips. "I like to think that I'm a good person... and don't get me wrong, I do like to help. But almost always, there's a voice whispering, ' _that's good, Ava. If you do that they'll like you and if they like you–',"_ I swallowed thickly. "It's almost like a sixth sense, you know? One moment I'm having a genuine moment with somebody, the next I'm thinking of how I–"

I sighed.

"Adara..." he said tentatively. "There are people out there who are downright _loathsome._ And you're here feeling bad about yourself because you're somehow _benefitting_ from your kindness?"

I started chewing on the inside of my cheek. "It's not that simple."

I stared at a vase across the room, breathing deeply.

The room was silent, only the sound of the nearby waves crashing onto the shore filling the room.

I inhaled a sharp breath before speaking. "Blaise loves to be complimented about the way he looks. Loves it more than anything. Tell him the color of his jumper matches his eyes or that his skin glows under the sun, and he'll love you. Pansy's kind of the same, but different. You tell her she's pretty and she couldn't care less. She knows that already. But tell her she's _prettier_ than someone else _,_ and you've got her wrapped around your finger. Theo... He needs someone to let him know he's still a part. That he still belongs. His social battery runs much lower than most, and he hates small talk with a passion. Sit with him in silence, a smile here and there–," I shrugged, "–that's enough for him."

He looked at me carefully, his eyes scanning my face. "So, you read people well. How does that make you a bad person?"

"Daphne – she's like a sister to me. But even her, I–"

I sighed, pausing.

"Daphne's a sucker for listeners. She's a storyteller. All you need to do is to make her feel heard, make her feel validated, make her feel like you empathize with her and she'll treat you like you're family."

I looked at him and he looked back with equal tenacity.

"And that's just for people I like," I whispered. "For people I don't like..."

"Umbridge," he offered.

I shook my head. " _You_."

His eyes darkened, the muscles of his jaw rippled.

A torturous silence descended upon us before I spoke again.

"I remember... in our first year... the day we got sorted into Slytherin and I went up to _your_ table. And I realized quickly it was always going to be _yours_ and not _mine._ I realized that I was only ever going to be a welcomed guest, nothing more. That's when it started, I think."

He clenched his jaw before swinging his legs off the bed, turning his back to me.

"Then I remember in our second year, you were snickering with Crabbe and Goyle as you looked me up and down. Then when I passed I heard you laugh when Crabbe said that I could have been pretty if I wasn't so _fat_. I spent the rest of the year trying to lose weight," I said, smiling sadly. "I was _only_ twelve."

He stood up and strolled over to the window, his steps loud and heavy. I sat up, shifting my body back to the headboard.

"In our third year, people started complimenting me." I laughed lowly. "Congratulating me for losing all the _'baby weight'._ " I shook my head. "And then _finally,_ Goyle actually called me pretty. You know what you said?"

He turned around as he leaned back on the window frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

"' _Yeah, if only she weren't a mudblood.'_ But yeah, at least, you whispered it to him, right? That's a lot better than what you did to Granger."

A glower creased his sculpted face.

"Then in our fourth year, when my uncle died, I barely even got to be sad. Because all I kept thinking was that – when I do finally go back to Hogwarts, you would have no reason to keep whispering. And _Merlin,_ what kind of _good_ person would feel the relief that I felt when I found out you were too preoccupied bullying Potter and his friends to even pay attention to _me_?"

He turned back around, his hands gripping the windowsill tightly as he looked out past the ocean.

"And," I said, slipping out of the bed. "Just when I thought it was over, I overheard you and your Quidditch teammates talking about girls. Ranking them. Of course, Daphne was always going to be number one. She was always the pretty one. The effortlessly likable one. Then someone offered me as second place. I didn't know who, I couldn't place the voice. I could place yours though. You said, _'yeah, maybe, but have you seen her eyebrows?'_ "

I stood up, pacing towards him slowly. Cautiously. Carefully.

"But all the while I kept thinking, _oh at least he doesn't say it to my face."_ I chuckled. "Like I was supposed to be _grateful_."

I paused beside him, staring out at the same moon and the same ocean. Half-wishing I hadn't said anything at all. Half-knowing I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't.

"And when you found out – when you cast that _descendo_ and made me fall to the ground. I was almost certain that my life had ended." I chuckled dryly. "So I had to handle it. I had to make you care about me. So I made a list in my head. Theo, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle. I studied every single one of their relationships with you to figure out what it was about them that made you _like_ them or at least care about them enough to respect them. I crossed out more than half in just a second. Theo, Daphne, and Millie – you shared childhood with. Blaise – Quidditch. So, I was left with Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They had one common denominator. They were at your beck and call. So I was. But of course, that wasn't enough. You kept them around but you didn't exactly treat them _well._ So I watched you. Watched what you liked. That was when I circled back to Theo and Blaise. You liked them because they made you laugh. So I did. Or... at least, I tried."

He turned his head to look down at me, his expression inscrutable. "Why are you telling me this?"

I pursed my lips, hesitating.

"I planned _this,_ Draco. I planned to get close to you. I couldn't trust you with my secret, and I needed to take matters into my own hands. _I manipulated you into caring about me._ Even when I did trust you, I still couldn't let go. I was still watching. Still studying. But then I was laughing, and those were real. I was opening up, and that was real too. I started to get upset by the things you said and did when, for years, I had been perfectly fine turning a blind eye and faking a smile. Then I realized, the more I watched, the more I cared. But by then, it was too late. By then, I–," I faltered, letting the unsaid admission fly away.

"You manipulatedme," he said calmly, almost as though he were repeating it for his own sake. "You manipulate your friends... by pretending to be what they want you to be."

I inhaled sharply, letting my eyes fall to the floor.

"You let people use you. Take advantage of you. Take credit for your work. And what do you get in return?" His voice had an edge of fury in them, stifled by a forced composure.

I said nothing.

His finger found my chin, forcing me to look up at him. The movement was abrupt, almost painful. The cold of his ring stung my skin yet sent shivers down my spine. For the first time in months, I felt _fear_ in his presence.

"What. Do. You. Get. In. Return?" he asked, each word slicing through the heaviness in the air.

"I don't know," I whispered, a tremor in my voice.

A cold smile curled on his lips. "Basic human decency?"

I winced.

I braced myself for his anger. To be told that I was an idiot. That I was a bitch. That someone like me had no right to deceive purebloods like them.

Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders. He took me in his arms. He held me tight against him, and I suspected bruises would form where his hand wrapped around my waist. "You won't need to do that anymore. I won't let _anyone_ treat you that way anymore," he growled. "I won't let anyone else hurt you."

I could feel the heat of his anger emanating from his skin. I could feel it in the way he gripped my body and in the way he tangled his hand on my hair. Protective. Possessive.

He took care of what was _his_. No one else could touch what was _his. I_ was _his._

Had been for longer than either of us realized.

His possession on me was like a chameleon. First, as the keeper of my secret. Then as the recipient of my services. Then as his friend. And now...

Now it was different and we both knew it. It had been ever-changing, but now it was as though we had hit a standstill. A dead-end. Nowhere to go and nothing to do but to accept it.

He was _selfish_ and everyone knew it.

But what no one else knew was that I was selfish too.

So, I let my arms wrap around his torso. I let myself believe that I deserved it. That I deserved him. That I had my reasons for doing what I did.

I did. I knew I did. But does the end justify the means? Did the severity of his actions absolve mine?

He was no saint... but neither was I.

I sighed against his chest.

"What is it?" he asked, pulling my head back. His jaw was clenched, his face blank, and I could tell he was trying to contain his fury. Trying to hold back his tongue. Trying not to lash out on me.

How do I say that all that he was offering was all I've wanted and more? That all he was doing was prove that I did succeed a little too well? That he was exposing even more of himself to someone who's exploited his weaknesses?

I couldn't.

"I'm sorry," I whispered instead, wrapping my arms around his neck and embracing him.

That was when the door clicked. Creaked as it swung open.

We ripped apart, Draco almost tripping over his broomstick on the floor as my head snapped to the sound.

Eleanor stood there, a faltering smile on her face as her eyes went round, boxes of board games falling off her arms.

"Eleanor," I gasped. "It's not what it looks like."

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _One Day – Tate McRae_


	25. Apparition

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Deep End – Birdy_

I have never seen Draco scared before. Not like this anyway. He looked as if he were faced with the Dark Lord himself, but instead, stood in front of him was a 76-year-old witch almost half his size. I would have laughed. I would have laughed if fear hadn't cloaked my entire being as Eleanor darted her eyes between us, her wand drawn high.

"What's taking so long?" I heard Aunt Lara yell from the stairs, the sound of her footfalls matching the thud of my heart. When she rounded the corner and caught sight of my room from the open doorway, her eyes went round. She scurried to Eleanor's side, easing the woman from her offensive stance. As she did so, her lips curled into a small smile. Turning to me, she asked, "Is that the Malfoy boy you're dating?"

It felt like someone had hit me on the back of my head. I felt my entire body go hot, my chest caving in humiliation.

"No," I squeaked. "I'm _not_ dating him. I never said I was–," I turned to Draco, aggressively shaking my head. "I never said we were dating. I – It was that Auror. He – he told – I never said – I would _never–,_ " I brought my hand to cover my face, willing the universe to end my existence right then and there.

But Draco didn't seem to care. Draco didn't even seem to hear.

"Ellie," Aunt Lara said, a teasing twinkle in her eyes. "What are we going to do with the boy? Should we feed him to the sharks? I'm sure Aster's rolling in his grave right now." She gave a shriek of laughter, clapping as she threw her head back.

"Aunt Lara!" I huffed.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," she said, taking Draco's hand into both of hers encouragingly.

He still stood frozen, his eyes glossed over as if his soul had left and all that remained in my room was a cadaver charmed to stay standing.

Eleanor snapped her hand back to herself, her lips pursed in a thin line. Then she turned on her heel, grabbed the board games from the floor, and left the room.

"Uh-oh," Aunt Lara said, tutting her tongue. She wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulder, and teased, "Should've used the front door."

She wrapped her other arm around my waist and led us out of my room as she bellowed in laughter.

As we walked down the stairs, I kept sneaking glances at Draco, genuinely worried he might have gone into shock. He hasn't said a word since we came face-to-face with Eleanor and his face remained inscrutable, seemingly lost in thought.

Eleanor was in the kitchen, silently preparing snacks. Aunt Lara looked at me pointedly, gesturing for me to go in there before she led Draco to the East Wing where the game room is.

I walked up to Eleanor tentatively, my teeth nipping the skin inside my cheek.

"Eleanor," I said gently. "I can explain–"

She turned around abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest. "First I find out you've gotten detention with him. Then broke your leg when you were out past curfew with him. Then an Auror comes to our house because of him, and _now_ I catch him inside your room?"

I shrink back into myself, realizing just how disappointed she must be of me.

Her eyes softened as she put a hand on my arm.

"I'm not mad, sweetheart. I just don't understand. You've been such a good kid all this time and now – you've been getting in all sorts of trouble and that Malfoy boy is always involved."

"It's not his fault," I said, my voice meek. "It's – it's _mine."_

"I know it is," she said, a reprimanding edge piercing her tone. "I'm not faulting him for your choices. I'm just worried, is all."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. I'll do better."

She cupped my cheek, her lips curling into a wry smile. "That's all I wanted to hear."

I nodded, my eyes dropping to the floor as a wave of guilt flooded through me. After everything she's done for me, I truly did not mean to cause her so much worry. A faint sigh slipped past my lips as I added her to the growing number of people I've troubled for my actions.

Her smile fell off her face as she quirked a brow. "Care to tell me why you've been hiding a boy in your room?"

"I haven't," I exclaimed defensively, shaking my head. "He just got here, I swear. He – he says he just needs to get away for a while. His father's trial and all."

She nodded slowly, looking as if she's pondering her choices. She pursed her lips, hesitating before she sighed. "Well, alright. But I want to have a wordwith him."

_Oh god._

"Eleanor," I pleaded. "Please don't. There's no need, I swear."

She scoffed. "I believe you when you say that you're not dating the boy but if you think I don't see how much you like him, then..." She huffed, straightening her blouse with the palm of her hands.

"Eleanor!" I whispered, peering past the kitchen and onto the East Wing to check if anyone's overheard. "That's so embarrassing," I whined. "Please don't."

"What's so embarrassing about that?" she said, grabbing the plate of snacks and walking out of the kitchen. "If anything, he should be embarrassed. Couldn't even knock at the front door. During my time, that's practically _unheard_ of! Aster had to ask permission from my father before he could even hold my hand, you know. You're lucky witches and wizards are starting to get progressive or else I would have demanded he married you for the sake of preserving our family's honor."

My eyes went wide as I scuttered after her. "Eleanor, please. I'll clean the entire house for the rest of the summer, just please don't say things like that in front of him."

She winked at me before walking through the entryway of the East Wing. As we neared the game room, the faint sound of music emanated from the area. I furrowed my brows, unable to recognize the song playing.

When we rounded the archway, I found Aunt Lara dancing around the room, a glass of wine in her hand. Draco sat in one of the sofas, his back straight and his knees bouncing as his eyes kept darting around the room awkwardly. When his eyes met mine, they seemed to scream _'help me.'_

I shook my head, my eyes wide as I gave him a one-shoulder shrug.

"Lara, tell them the story of how you found this song," Eleanor cheered, sitting down next to Draco and patting him on the thigh. She brought the platter near his face, tilting her head in offering.

Draco reached for a pretzel cautiously.

I swallowed thickly before sitting on the sofa opposite them. Sofia, after having disappeared somewhere in the house, came sauntering in before jumping up my lap.

Aunt Lara squirmed into her wine glass in excitement, gulping down the red wine before going into her story.

"So Eleanor's been baking a whole lot, right?" she said, nodding her head to the beat of the music. "There was this one time, we ran out of _eggs._ Then we went to the grocery store the Chang's recently opened – I think their niece is in your year – well, anyway – they were closed! So we had to go to this Muggle market and – oh, you wouldn't believe what we saw."

My eyes fluttered towards Draco, worried how he would react to the mention of Muggles. To my surprise, he was leaning forward, a curious gleam in his eyes. Next to him, Eleanor was watching him carefully as she munched on a bar of chocolate.

"There were these – these boys! With their board things. Skate things? _Skateboard_! They wore these caps on their heads in _reverse!"_ She made a swiping gesture around her head. "And their pants! No – not pants. _Jeans._ They were all loose and baggy, their _underwear_ was showing!" She hit her thigh with the side of her hands, gesturing just how low the Muggles wore their trousers – I mean, _jeans_.

Draco looked petrified. " _What?"_ he finally spoke. "Did they know? That they were being indecent? Why didn't anyone tell them?"

Aunt Lara shrugged, looking just as clueless. She brought her hand near her mouth as if to whisper. "I think it was on purpose."

Draco leaned back, his eyes wide. I knew his mind was turning. Yet another reason for him to avoid Muggles at all costs.

"It's called _fashion,"_ Eleanor quipped, her lips twitching.

"Well, anyway!" Aunt Lara said, waving her hand in front of her. "They were playing this song. It was just so groovy I had to ask for the title. It's called _'No Diggity'_ by–," she looked up in thought, "–Blackstreet, Dr. Dre, and–," she snapped her fingers, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to remember, "–Queen Pen, is it?"

"She dragged me to this Muggle record store and she's been listening to it _nonstop_ since then _,"_ Eleanor said, rolling her eyes.

Aunt Lara laughed as she stumbled to Eleanor and Draco, forcing the two of them up to dance. Eleanor immediately started bobbing her head to the beat while Draco stood frozen in the middle of the two elderlies.

I burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Eleanor," I gasped in between giggles. "What are you doing?"

Draco wiped his hand down his sweatpants, looking desperately to me for help.

Aunt Lara swayed towards me, shimmying her shoulders as she grabbed my hand to force me to stand up.

 _"Oh my god,"_ I said, chuckling as I brought my hands to cover my face. Sofia jumped down the sofa before waltzing around the room.

"You two kids aren't _in the times_ enough. Not _cool._ Not – what was it that boy said?" Aunt Lara turned to Eleanor.

" _Dope."_ She giggled.

"Eleanor!" I said with a laugh, cringing at her behavior. "What does that even mean?"

Aunt Lara had taken Draco as her dancing partner, forcing him to at least nod his head to the music as she circled the room with him in tow.

 _I'm sorry,_ I mouthed to him when he caught my eye.

He ducked his head, a grin forming on his face.

The rest of the night was spent with laughter, music, and board games. Aunt Lara had an affinity for Draco, she practically kept him all to herself. Not long after their dance _,_ he started settling in. Slowly, but he did. Laughed at all the right moments, exposed just how competitive he was in a Muggle game called Twister, helped the two older ladies stand up from the floor, and more.

When the clock struck midnight, Eleanor prepared a guest room on the opposite side of the house, placing him as far away from me as possible.

The next day I woke up to even more laughter. The three of them were downstairs, stuffing pancakes and bacon into their mouths as Eleanor showed him my baby pictures.

"Eleanor," I groaned. "Why? Just – _why_?"

I plopped down on the seat next to him, grabbing my own plate as they continued their chit-chat.

Despite how humiliated I've been just in the few hours alone, I couldn't help but smile. Because he was smiling. So much more than I've ever seen him before. He's changed into a white cable-knit jumper and plain black beach shorts, and I noted just how handsome he looked in white. How handsome he looked in the daylight. How handsome he looked when he was happy.

When Eleanor reached over for the maple syrup, he stood up to do it for her.

I rolled my eyes.

"Why can't you be _that_ nice to me?" I whispered teasingly when he sat back down.

A faint gasp escaped my mouth when he squeezed my thigh under the table for just a second before going back to enjoying his breakfast.

After eating, Eleanor suggested we take the boat out.

I ran up to change my clothes, grabbing a bunch of towels and Aster's camera before meeting Draco outside. He stood with his hands in the pocket of his shorts as he watched the ocean in silence. I walked towards him slowly, admiring the way his hair looked under the glare of the sun. I brought the polaroid camera to my eye but before I could snap a picture, he pointed his wand at me and it came flying out of my hand and into his.

He shook his head, smirking.

I huffed, frowning as I walked towards him. "Give it back."

"Nope," he said, popping the p.

I rolled my eyes before walking down the cliff where our Abraxan was munching on the grass. I approached her, brushing through her mane and her wings before planting a kiss on her muzzle. Then came the sound of a shutter clicking.

I glared at a chuckling Draco as the instant film slid out of the camera.

"What's her name?" he asked as we continued our walk down to the beach.

"Isabelle," I said, my annoyance thawing. "What about yours? Or – I'm assuming you have more than one."

"We have at least ten," he said nonchalantly.

"Makes sense," I said, huffing into a smile.

And when we reached the sand, he forced me to pause and pose, amusement coloring his tone. I rolled my eyes, but just for the sake of hearing him laugh, I did. He waved the instant film against the air as we made our way to the boat.

We boarded the yacht and with a flick of my wand, the ropes unknotted from the port, the sail assembling itself as the engine roared to life. This part of the beach was empty, the small community of wizards and witches in Cornwall casting a number of wards daily to keep the Muggles away. I magicked the boat to go around the perimeter, looking for wards that have been weakened by time before casting a Shield Charmand _Repello Muggletum_ [Muggle-Repelling Charm] _._ I created a mental note to remind Eleanor to cast the more advanced wards when they had the time.

When I turned back around, I caught Draco watching me.

 _Caught,_ I realized, was not the right word to use. He wasn't hiding it. He sat on the floor, his elbows resting on his bent knees, and he stared at me. Unabashed. Unapologetic. Unwavering.

I scratched on my eyebrow.

Clearing my throat, I asked with a small smile, "Do you want to swim?"

He was silent for a few seconds, hesitating to speak. "I – I can't."

I frowned. "Why not?"

He sighed. "No questions, remember?"

"But I don't understand what swimming has to do with–"

"Adara," he warned.

I pouted teasingly. "Please?"

He rolled his eyes. He wet his lips before looking up in thought. Then finally, he said, "Wait here."

He stood up and walked down the cabin. A few seconds passed and then came a flash of luminescent orange light from the dark entryway. His face was blank when he walked back up.

"What spell was that?" I asked.

"No questions," he said, his tone clipped.

He started to remove his jumper. In one swift movement, I summoned the polaroid to take a picture.

He glared at me as the camera printed out the film.

I laughed in victory as the photo started manifesting itself on the white plastic.

Just as soon, he grabbed me and lifted me from the floor before jumping into the water. I managed a yelp before we both crashed through the stillness, creating ripples as we sunk under. When I broke out of the shore, he was laughing as I coughed.

He pulled me in by the waist to help steady me.

Then his eyes darkened as our legs brushed against each other. My breath hitched.

"M-my clothes," I stammered a complaint.

He nodded slowly, his eyes still set on mine.

My lips parted when I felt his hand grab hold of the hem of my oversized jumper, his fingers brushing against my thigh then my hips then up the curve of my waist and then even the side of my torso as he undressed me. He tossed it up the boat and I was left in a two-piece swimsuit, one of his hands still around me.

I swallowed thickly as the current of the ocean drew us closer. All the while, his eyes never left mine. My hands found his bare shoulder as one of his cupped my cheek.

Our faces hovered mere centimeters away from each other and he stroked my jaw with his thumb with such gentleness that I never thought he possessed.

He held me like a parcel labelled 'handle with care.'

His nose brushed against mine. "I've severely underestimated you, Adara."

That was the moment I stopped breathing. For a brief moment, as our lips touched, I forgot where he ended and I began. It was as if all of my senses belonged to him. All I could feel, hear, see, smell, and taste was him.

It was soft. Gentle. So unlike what I had expected from him. When he pulled away, his furrowed brows and conflicted eyes stared at me, both his hands cupping my face. Seeing his worry flooded me with an overwhelming desire to make it all go away.

"Why?" His thumb stroked my jaw as his palm slid down my neck. "Why _me_?"

Finding that no words were worthy enough, I crashed my lips onto his, but unlike him, I didn't hold back.

As though I've unshackled a dragon, he kissed back fervently, breathing fire into me. Pulling me even closer, if that were even possible. He tangled his fingers on my hair, gripping it tightly as he nipped on my bottom lip. I brought my hand to the nape of his neck, my body curving into him as he continued his divine assault on my lips.

We were a fuse finally exploding after months of fire. Hands desperately grasping each other, lips battling as if to prove something, hearts beating out of our chests. Before I knew it, we had found our way back to the floor of the boat, delirium filling me as his teeth grazed my bottom lip, dragging it out _painstakingly_ slow. And with the whimper that escaped my mouth, he sunk back in, his tongue dancing inside as his lips reddened mine.

There was an all-consuming hunger in his touch. Hunger to mark his territory as he dragged his lips down my jaw and on my neck, creating an intricate pattern of purple bruises on my skin. Hunger to know every inch of me as his hands slid down my body, memorizing. Hunger to eradicate whatever space was left between us as he pressed his body against mine.

Despite the lack of space, I found myself clamoring for even more of him.

We were both gasping for air when we broke apart. He smelled like the ocean. Like himself and like the ocean. Like home. He rested his forehead on mine, a small smile curling on his lips. Behind him, the sky had darkened. An ominous cloud loomed over us.

It was the calm before the storm.

"Ava," he whispered, brushing away the damp hair off my face. "I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

He stared at me intently for I don't know how long before he spoke again.

"No matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear – from the news, from other people, or even from me — you'll remember this. _Us._ _Here_. _Now_. Can you do that for me?"

His eyes held a certain fear and desperation that was foreign to either of us and despite my yearning to know what was happening, I had no choice but to simply nod.

"Say it," he said, his voice commanding.

"I promise, Draco," I said firmly, cupping his cheek.

His head dipped down to plant another kiss on my lips. And then another. And another. Not before long, my mind was buzzing. From drinking him in and from the sway of the ocean. He shifted from the floor to a sitting position, bringing me with him. My legs straddled his lap as his mouth made its way down my jaw.

"Draco," I whispered warningly, my eyes darting around for any beachgoers. I pushed away for an inch before his hand found the back of my head and pulled me back in.

"Ten _fucking_ months, Adara," he muttered against my skin. "Forgive me if I'm famished."

I tilted my head back, a sigh leaving my mouth as he continued his trail down my neck. "We could at least move to the cabin," I said, out of breath.

He was already carrying me before I could process what was happening. We stumbled down the stairs, my legs wrapped around his hips and his hands wrapped around my thighs, lips planting sloppy and desperate kisses on each other over and over again.

I doubted the lack of doubts. Feared the lack of fear. Worried about the lack of worry.

Worried about how either of us was ever going to stop when it felt like _this._

Hated that it took us this long. Feeling as though I've wasted my entire life denying myself this euphoria.

It was only when he threw me down the bed that I let my eyes flutter open. The room was dimly lit, only a small round window by the side of the bed as our source of light. The ocean wind has left our hair and our clothes damp yet our skins were dripping with beads of sweat.

Draco stood in front of me, devouring my body with his eyes. His chest was heaving as his gaze traveled from my face down to my neck and my chest and my stomach and my hips and my thighs and my legs. And I let him. I would have let him do anything at that point.

" _Fucking hell,_ Adara," he said as he crawled on top of me and grabbed my neck with his hand. "You should have told me earlier–," his lips found the skin below my ear, "–that you–," he swiped his tongue down my jugular, "–tasted this _fucking_ good."

In spite of myself, a sound I've never made before tumbled off my lips.

I placed my hands on both his shoulders, squeezing my thighs against his hips before I shifted forward, reversing our positions. My teeth caught his bottom lip, dragging it out _slowly_ like he did with me. He tangled his hand in my hair tightly, pulling me back, a look of surprise curtaining his face.

"I'm a fast learner," I whispered, smirking onto his lips.

A low chuckle emanated from his chest. "You're a fucking enigma, I swear to–"

I smashed my lips against his, swallowing the rest of his words. Before I could make another move, he managed to slam me back against the bed, switching back to our original positions.

I rolled my eyes as he smiled against my neck. "So competitive," I teased.

He fluttered kisses on the skin under my jaw – which I realized then had quickly become his favorite part of my body. The hands on my waist started sliding down, _slow._ And when his fingers reached the side of my bottom, the ache between my thighs had become undeniable. I wrapped my legs around his hips to pull him closer.

A guttural groan tumbled off his lips as he threw himself off me. His left hand grasped his chest tightly as he writhed in pain.

"Draco," I said sitting up abruptly. "What – what's happened? What's wrong?"

His face was crumpled as he winced from an unknown source of pain. I brought my hands to his face instinctively.

" _Don't touch me,"_ he growled.

I drew my hand back to myself immediately.

"Draco," I pleaded, kneeling on the bed to get a closer look at him. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"I need to go. I need to go _now._ " He started pulling himself up, his left arm still pressed to his chest.

"Draco–"

He ignored me as he made haste up the stairs. I realized it was drizzling when I followed him up the deck. He was putting on his jumper, his wand now back in his hand.

" _Accio_ broom," he exclaimed, pointing his wand up high.

The boat started swaying aggressively as the light drizzle turned into a heavy rainfall.

"Bring the boat back to the port, Adara," he commanded, marching towards me. His eyes fell to my neck. Muttering the Concealment Charm, he tapped his wand to my chest and a bright orange light flashed on my body.

"Draco, tell me what's happening." My voice was taut as fear crept up my spine.

"I can't." His whole demeanor was pained, his right hand gripping his left arm tightly. "Get us back to the port."

We stumbled sideways as a large wave crashed over the bottom of the boat, the rain growing heavier by the minute. He held me to him, his left arm between our chests as the rain soaked our clothes. Beyond the horizon, lightning struck followed by a thunderous clap.

"Adara," he said, wrapping his right hand around my jaw. "Get. Us. Back. To. The. Port."

I nodded, running to the front of the yacht. I gripped the railings tight as I maneuvered us back with my wand. The waves were furious, the rain obscuring my vision. In my peripheral, I saw a broom fly past me. Panic almost swallowed me whole when I lost sight of the port yet I still swept my wand to the direction where I last saw it, hoping that my memory served correct. I only realized that Draco has walked over to where I was when his chest pressed behind my back and he cast a shield charm over us.

"Lumos," we said simultaneously, and a bright white light beamed out of our wands. I could vaguely see the port to my right so with a heavy hand, I swept my wand from left to right. The boat surged forward, fighting the raging waves as the sail flapped around angrily. The sky flashed once more, and I jumped as a loud thunder echoed through the vast expanse. Draco snaked his arm around my waist, resting his hand on my stomach to steady me.

We reached the port with a crash, the wood surely creating a dent on its bow. With a twist of my wand, the rope knotted itself back. We hauled ourselves out of the boat and onto the dock.

With our hands entwined, I took a sprinting step towards the beach yet Draco was unyielding as he held me back.

His voice was clipped when he spoke.

"Adara, you need to tell me everything you know about apparating."

With the shield charm gone, the downpour dripped down our faces and bodies violently.

" _What_?" I said, my voice quivering. "You can't, Draco. You could die."

"I have to."

"No, you can't. Please don't. Please, Draco. You can't." I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back towards the house.

He shook his head, refusing to budge from his stance. "I have to."

"No, no," I said, my breaths coming in short bursts. "You can use the Floo. L-let's go back. Use the Floo."

"I can't. He might trace it back–"

I froze. "Who? Who will?"

He swiped his hand down his face furiously. " _Fucking hell,"_ he thundered.

"Draco, what's happening?" I quaked, desperation engulfing my tone.

"No questions," he snapped. "Just tell me everything you know about apparating."

" _Please_ , Draco. You can't die. Don't die, please. You might die."

"I'll do it with or without your help so if you really care, you'll answer the _goddamn_ question."

I took a shuddering breath before reciting everything I could remember. "The three Ds: destination, determination, and deliberation. You need to be _determined_ to reach your _destination,_ and move without haste, but with _deliberation."_ Then the worry re-entered my tone. "Draco, you could splinch if you apparate somewhere too far away. Wiltshire is too far away, Draco. Please just come with me, use the Floo – it's okay. _Please."_

"I told you, _I can't,"_ he bellowed.

I flinched. I wiped my hands across my eyes, sweeping away the rain and the tears.

His eyes softened. He grabbed my neck gently, pulling me in for a kiss.

He rested his forehead on mine. "Go back to the house. Tell your aunts I had to go because of an emergency. Do not write me letters. Do not try to contact me in any way. Stay home as much as possible. Do you understand?"

"Draco, please," I cried. "I don't want you to get hurt. You're going to get hurt."

His grip on my neck tightened. "Do you understand?"

Despite the heaviness in my chest, I nodded begrudgingly.

" _Go._ Now," he demanded, pushing me away.

"Draco," I whimpered.

" _Now."_ He pointed his wand at me and my legs started moving backward without my consent.

My chest tightened as I watched him squeeze his eyes shut, one hand holding his broom, the other holding his wand. Images of him splinched in different parts of his body flashed through my mind, and I froze. I took one step towards him, my hand outstretched.

Then came a loud crack and in a blink, he was gone.

It felt like I was drowning.

He's going to die – he's going to die – he's going to die.

I sobbed, feeling as though my lungs were filled with water. Like all the oxygen in the earth was incompatible with my body. My hands trembled as my knees hit the wood, sending a jolt of pain up my thighs.

_He's going to die. He's dying. He's dead._

My body curled itself into a fetal position as the anxiety buried me alive.

And then darkness.

When the light returned, I found myself in the drawing room, a blanket wrapped around me. The room was silent but I could see Eleanor and Aunt Lara moving their mouths. Eleanor was spoon-feeding me a potion, which I recognized as a Calming Draught as it crept down my tongue and down my throat.

A choked sob escaped my lips when my hearing came back.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" Eleanor said. Aunt Lara was kneeling on the floor in front of me as she stroked my hair.

"He's going to die," I cried. "He – he apparated."

Both their eyes went wide as they looked at each other. Seconds passed, neither of them said a word.

"How old is Draco, dear?" Aunt Lara asked, her tone cautious.

"S-sixteen," I whimpered. "We don't have our licenses yet."

Her jaw clenched and I could tell that she, too, was worried. Even the most advanced wizards had trouble apparating. Most of us don't even bother getting a license because of how difficult and painful it was. The thought and their expressions alone sent another wave of panic through me.

Eleanor stroked my arm consolingly. "There are some bloodlines who have a proclivity to apparition, sweetheart. It's been a longstanding belief that the Malfoys are one of them. Draco should be fine."

But even I could tell her tone was wary. She wasn't sure. I needed her to be sure.

My breathing was ragged as I inhaled.

"Tell me what happened, sweetheart. Why were you alone in the dock?" Eleanor asked.

"H-he said it was an emergency. He had to l-leave. And the r-rain. We had t-trouble g-getting back. I t-think I d-damaged the boat."

"Breathe, Ava," Eleanor said. "Remember what the Mind Healer taught you? Inhale for four–," she breathed in, counting with her hands, "–hold for seven–," she pursed her lips, as her fingers counted to seven, "–exhale for eight–," she counted to eight.

We did breathing exercises for a few minutes, Aunt Lara joining us _'for support,'_ she said. The downpour of rain was loud and heavy against the window, and I forced myself to focus on its noise rather than the intrusive images in my head.

When I was deemed calm enough, Eleanor let me go up to my room. My trembling hand were already on my doorknob when I changed my mind at the last minute.

I walked over to Aster's old office.

The air was dank when I entered, a layer of dust on the white fabric covering the furniture. I walked slowly, my fingers grazing the surface of his shelves. In a dark corner of the room was a small armoire we had added posthumously and inside hung his most-worn clothing. The door opened with an eerie creak as I neared it.

I took his favorite cardigan, placing the hanger back inside before closing the armoire shut. I slipped my hands through the armhole, wrapping it tightly over my body as I left his office. It still smelled like him. I wrapped my arm around myself as I walked to my room, an irreplaceable sense of comfort brought upon by my uncle's presence. I slipped inside my bed, watching the pitter-patter of the rain on my window.

My hands brushed inside one of the pockets and there I found a tiny rolled piece of parchment. I brought it out, raising it over my head and unrolling it.

It read:

_Your suspicions are correct. You must never speak of this to anyone. For your daughter's sake._

_A.P.W.B.D._

**— END OF BOOK ONE —**

**–**

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Messages From Her – Sabrina Claudio_


	26. Book Two – Fall Of The Angel

_**BOOK TWO** _

**THE MOMENT I HAD MADE** the Unbreakable Vow, I saw something shift in her eyes. As though a jolt of power surged through her. As though a soul of fear abandoned her body. As though she was the force to be reckoned with I have always believed her to be.

A worthy match.

She was a viper.

  
**BLACK SNAKE-LIKE EYES** as dark as Tartarus. Body slithering around her prey like a sinless massage, before she tightened her grip and sank her fangs deep. Venom seeping through my blood like euphoric poison. Never have I seen someone play the innocent, little good girl act better than she did.

Only – it wasn't an act.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She was an angel and I was the devil dragging her to hell.

♰

**_Book Two:_** _Fall of the Angel_ is intended for mature audiences. It will contain _explicit_ _sexual content_ and other _dark themes_.


	27. Bookshelf

The storm lasted for only a day yet has been deemed by the Muggles as the worst superstorm the West Country has ever seen. Devon, Dorset, Somerset, and Bristol were in havoc, but Cornwall took on the bulk of the viciousness of the hurricane.

But it _wasn't_ a hurricane.

Shortly after I had fallen asleep, Eleanor and Aunt Lara barged into my room and, in their most frantic voices, told me to run down to the basement and hide. Like the good daughter they believed me to be, I obeyed. But just as quickly as their attention had been diverted, I snuck out and watched. Watched as they ran outside and faced a downpour of furious rainfall to cast a plethora of wards all over the house, some that hadn't even been taught to us in Hogwarts. I stood peeking out through the kitchen window, completely perplexed by their behavior.

Then _they_ came.

Giants.

Giants and Death Eaters.

In spite of my fear, I ran out to warn everybody I could. Wizards and witches out in the pouring rain, casting all sorts of charms and spells in desperate attempts to keep safe. The rain obscured their vision and unbeknownst to them, a battalion of terror was heading our way.

Chaos ensued.

The three of us stood frozen inside as they wreaked havoc in our community, begging and praying that the wards they had placed were enough for us to remain Unplottable for the remainder of their undertaking. Hoping that our neighbors were safe. That we wouldn't exit our house and find the community farmer strewn on the ground lifeless.

The following days were spent _obliviating_ the memories of every Muggle who witnessed the act of terror. Trees uprooted off its soil, hundreds of roofs ripped off, lampposts bent in shapes that a hurricane would have never caused, _terrible_ injuries. Teams of Obliviators and a bunch of volunteers worked day and night to find witnesses and modify their memories to believe that it had been the storm that caused all of this.

A few days later came my long-awaited confirmation that Draco was _indeed_ alive. _'House of Malfoy: Disgraced and Distraught',_ a headline read. He was pictured leaving the Ministry with his mother, a stark of blond heads among a crowd of cameras and notepads. They wore matching sneers, and despite the unpleasantness of their demeanor, I couldn't help but admire their unwavering air of arrogance even after their family's nosedive in the pool of respected names.

A surge of fury overcame me. Then a wave of relief. And then returned the fury at the reminder of how he left me. And the unbearable nights with me believing that he was dead. And how I was _begging_ him to let me help him. And his blatant disregard for me and my nerves. _Selfish,_ I reminded myself. He is many things and he is many things not, but he absolutely is selfish. It would have been stupid of me to delude that he was anything but.

I wasn't awarded many more moments to ponder this discovery because his father's trial was only but a footnote in the Daily Prophet. _'Act of War: Death Eaters Destroy Brockdale Bridge on Day of Terror',_ another headline read. The next day: _'Dementors Flee Azkaban and Join The Dark Lord'._ And then the next day: _'Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Found Dead'._ A few days after that: _'Emmeline Vance Brutally Murdered Just Outside the Office of the Muggle Prime Minister'._

The Wizarding world was in shambles. The Ministry faced an uproar. Calls for Cornelius Fudge's replacement were all anyone could talk about. Newspapers, magazines, the Wizarding Wireless Network. _Everyone._ Fear and panic were all people felt the entirety of July.

Finally, by the end of the fortnight: _'Scrimgeour Succeeds Fudge'._

The front page was taken up by a large black-and-white photograph of a man with a lionlike mane of thick hair and a rather haggard face.

_Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office._

Eleanor snatched the newspaper off my hands to read the article, scouring away from the breakfast table and to her little reading nook where she and Aunt Lara yammered on and on with their commentary on the recent events, and while many would be quick to wave away two elderly ladies theories, my aunt is _the_ widow of one of the best Heads of Magical Law Enforcement the British Ministry had ever seen.

And yet, my attention wasn't held by their chit-chat but by the front page of another newspaper strewn under a plate of scones. Sipping my warm cup of _chai_ , I slipped the paper out and I was met with Harry Potter's face.

**HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?**

_Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more._

I skimmed through the page.

_...highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy._

_Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. Page 2, column 5)_

An owl swept in to bring today's mail and a roll of fresh newspapers dropped off its crows and onto the hardwood floor beside me with a thump. I retrieved the roll, frantically unwrapping its ties. The first thing I saw was a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words:

**––– ISSUED ON BEHALF OF –––**   
**_The Ministry of Magic_ **

**PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES**

_The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack._

_1\. You are advised not to leave the house alone._

_2\. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible, arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen._

_3\. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all the family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition._

_4\. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2)._

_5\. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been under the Imperius Curse (see page 4)._

_6\. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other buildings, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately._

_7\. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sightings of an Inferius, or encounter with the same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY._

My heart went cold. _Inferi._ I have never seen one but it had been a tale Aster loved telling during Halloween. Corpses bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding. No one has caught sight of one since the last time the Dark Lord was in power, and it had been a fable among young witches and wizards that he had killed enough people to make an entire army of them.

With trembling hands, I slipped the leaflet off the stack, and under it was a newspaper crumpled by the edges from the incessant wind the ocean brought. I could barely read the title it bore: _'Ministry Guarantees Students' Safety'._

_Newly-appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this autumn._

_"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of Hogwarts School._

Before I could read further, it was yet again snatched off my hands for my aunts' perusal. Having lost my appetite, I powered through a few more bites of my Eggs Benedict before I let Veeny take my plate to the kitchen.

"Reckon we should let Ava sit this school year out?" I heard Aunt Lara whisper.

I stirred the remaining chai in my teacup as my eyes trailed to the strip of light on the white tablecloth, a rainbow bouncing off of the silverware and onto the vase of flowers in the center.

"Dumbledore has been reinstated as Headmaster. I reckon we book a room in there if we could," Eleanor said, a dry chuckle tumbling off her lips. "He _is_ the only wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named feared."

"Well, alright. But Dumbledore's getting a bit old, isn't he?"

Eleanor let loose a mixture of a scoff and a giggle. " _We're_ also getting a bit old, don't you think?"

Aunt Lara cackled, her shrill laughter prompting my lips to twitch into a small smile. "That we are... that we are."

I finished my cup of tea before blotting my lips with a table napkin. I set out to help Veeny out in the kitchen but just as I was passing through, I overheard Aunt Lara and Eleanor drop into a lower voice, muttering _Draco_ and something else I couldn't hear. I clenched my jaw as I ignored their whispers and plastered on a smile for our house-elf to see.

Later that night, I held the crumpled piece of parchment I found in Aster's cardigan over my face as I laid in bed reading. Over and over again just as I've had the past week and a half.

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore._

He knows. Of course he does. Chief Warlock. Headmaster. But _what?_ What does he know? And Aster knew. Aster found out. But again – _what?_ My parents? Does Eleanor know? Do I ask her? Would she even tell me the truth if she's been lying to me for years? Has she?

There was a certain kind of humor to be found in the ratio of the questions raised per question answered.

The next day, an owl flew into the house carrying a large square envelope. They soared through an open window before dropping the letters right at the center of our dining room table. It was sealed with a thin piece of rope and underneath was written _'Ava Rose Adara'_ in beautiful calligraphy.

My heart started beating rapidly at the realization that it must have been my O.W.L.s results. I slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL  
RESULTS

 **Pass Grades:**  
 ****Outstanding (O)  
Exceeds Expectations (E)  
Acceptable (A)

 **Fail Grades:**  
 ****Poor (P)  
Dreadful (D)  
Troll (T)

_Ava Rose Adara has achieved:_

Astronomy (O)  
Arithmancy (A)  
Care of Magical Creatures (O)  
Charms (O)  
Defense Against the Dark Arts (E)  
Divination (E)  
Herbology (O)  
History of Magic (O)  
Potions (O)  
Transfiguration (O)

I read the parchment through multiple times, my breathing slowly returning to normal with each scan of my eyes. _Enough for Aurorship,_ I repeated over and over again in hopes of softening the blow from the A in Arithmancy.

"So...?" Eleanor asked from across the table, her eyes glinting with hope, her hands wrung together in anticipation.

A grin formed on my face as I nodded.

Aunt Lara cheered from next to her as Eleanor's shoulders slump down in relief.

"I knew you could do it!"

"Aster would have been so proud!"

"We should celebrate!"

And for an entire day, I let all worry fade away like mist in the air. The three of us visited the Muggle market to buy ingredients for a cake and roasted potatoes and ribeye steak, the two elderlies laughing as a group of skater boys recognized them from the last time they were there. Just before we rounded a corner of a street on our way home, I caught Eleanor tapping her wand silently under her coat in the direction of the group of boys. A subtle flash of mint green light which I recognized to be some sort of advanced protection charm.

I knew if Eleanor could, she would fly all over the entirety of Cornwall (and even Britain, if it were even remotely possible) to cast protection over all human beings, be it Muggle or magical. She's always said that it was compassion that she learned most from Aster, and I could tell by the way her eyes went glossy that he was still very much in her heart.

Our celebration lasted for only a day because the following weeks after that were filled with stories of disappearances, odd accidents, and death. Dementor attacks. The murder of Igor Karkaroff. Florean Fortescue, owner of an ice-cream parlor in Diagon Alley, dragged off and missing. Ollivander, the wandmaker, also missing.

A couple of weeks before I had to go back to Hogwarts, my letter and booklist came in the mail. It called for a visit to Diagon Alley, much to Eleanor's chagrin.

"Well, we don't have much choice now, do we?" she huffed, scuttering about the sewing room.

"I'll just go with Daphne," I offered. "I can use the Floo to go to Windsor then we can travel to London together."

She frowned as she shook her head. "It's not safe, Ava. I'll come with you."

"Daphne's mother is the Head of Magical Transportation. I'm sure she'll make sure we're safe."

"But–"

"I'll be fine, Eleanor," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder consolingly. "I know travel is difficult for you. And I promise I'll be back before you know it."

She nodded begrudgingly.

On the next Friday night, I stood inside our fireplace with Floo powder in my hands as I exclaimed Daphne's address. She and her sister greeted me with wide smiles, and Astoria came barreling towards my direction to give me a hug.

"You've grown so tall!" I exclaimed, hugging her back. "Will you be coming with us tomorrow?"

She pouted, shaking her head no. "Mother says Daphne should be the one to buy my books."

"Oh, that's okay," I said, patting down her hair. "What year will you be in this year?"

"Fourth," she replied, smiling toothily.

"Exciting," I said, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "How are you and Alistair Zabini?"

Her face fell. "I – We – we're not together anymore. Father said I should just focus on my studies since he's already talked to Mrs. Malfoy."

My heart dropped down to my stomach like a heavy stone.

Tears started brimming in her eyes and she wrapped her arms across her chest as she shook her head indignantly. "It's not fair," she huffed.

I swallowed thickly before taking her in my arms in a comforting embrace. Behind her, Daphne was eyeing me warily, her lips pursed into a thin line. I huffed into a solemn smile, even as the wheels of my brain turned at a dangerous pace.

Before I could even think about letting it upset me, Dopsy, one of their house-elves, called for us to have dinner and Astoria quickly wiped the tears from her face before we entered their opulent dining room where their parents were waiting with polite smiles and an intricate menu of international cuisine.

On Saturday morning, a luxurious Ministry of Magic car was waiting for us in their driveway. Daphne and I sat in roomy comfort in the wide backseat, an Auror sitting on the front passenger seat next to the Ministry driver.

"Was all this really necessary?" Daphne muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I'd rather this than be attacked by the Inferi," I joked.

We spent the rest of the trip in silence, knowing completely well that whatever we discussed in front of the listening ears of Ministry workers would come back to the Greengrass parents. The ride was smooth despite the speed, and the only reason I realized how fast we were going was because the view outside the dark-tinted windows was reduced to white and on occasion, strips of color.

"Here you are then," the driver said a couple of minutes later as he slowed in Charing Cross Road, stopping just outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm to wait for you lot, any idea how long you'll be?"

"Three to four hours, maybe?" Daphne said, looking to me for confirmation.

"Yes, something like that," I said, scooting in my seat as the Auror opened the door. "Thank you."

A number of Muggles stopped to stare, and I suspected they were expecting a Muggle celebrity of some sort. I ducked my head down in an attempt to restrict their view of my face as much as possible.

I nodded to the Auror curtly as I stepped out of the car. "Thank you."

Daphne and I walked inside the Leaky Cauldron, passing by the empty bar and the gloomy landlord.

"Just passing through, Tom," the Auror spoke in front of us. She led us through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. With the palm of her hand, she rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street.

A silent gasp escaped my mouth at the sight. The used-to-be colorful and crowded Diagon Alley was now somber and empty. Almost every shop window was plastered with purple Ministry of Magic posters about security advice. The rest bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters wanted. The sneering image of Bellatrix Lestrange was on the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows, however, were boarded up with thin planes of plywood, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Another foreign addition was the number of shabby-looking stalls that had planted themselves along the street. The closest one, which sat just outside Flourish and Blotts, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

**AMULETS**   
**Effective Against Werewolves,**   
**Dementors, and Inferi**

"Oh, just these people wait. I'll be reporting this to Arthur," the Auror said. She turned to us, her nose scrunched up in disdain. "I cannot believe that these people actually have the nerve to exploit on fear to sell their defective products." She removed her hat, revealing pale pink hair. "Sorry, my name's Nymphadora, by the way. Nymphadora Tonks. But just call me Tonks for short."

Daphne and I nodded shyly, completely enamored by the Auror. It was very rare for us to see Aurors in action, let alone those who were women.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "My name's Ava, and this is Daphne."

Tonks gave us a small smile before gesturing for us to go ahead with our shopping.

We walked towards Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions, taking advantage of the shopping trip to purchase creams and potions for our skin and face. Tonks stood by the entrance, her back turned to us as she watched the small number of shoppers outside.

"So... you're together," Daphne said, her voice low after I had told her what happened during the beginning of the holidays. We were strolling inside the shop, peering at the perfumes and vials.

I took a deep breath before pursing my lips. "No."

Her brows furrowed together. "What do you mean no?"

"It was just a _few_ kisses. Doesn't mean we're together." I forced a nonchalant shrug.

"Then what are you?"

"I don't know... Friends?"

She looked at me incredulously, her hand around a vial with sparkling rose pink liquid inside. "Still _friends?_ For Merlin's sake, Ava–"

"I don't know, alright? We haven't exactly talked about any of it yet."

She sighed. "It's all just confusing. You know Astoria's been crying all summer because Father forced her to break up with Alistair? And Mother's been sending Aunt Narcissa all these gifts and pastries and–"

"What do you want me to do, Daph?" I said, sighing in exasperation.

"I just don't understand why you're not upset by all of it," she huffed.

"It's fine," I said, waving her away despite the pang in my gut.

"I mean, he might find a way to get out of it," she said. "Astoria just turned fourteen. That gives him what? Four or five years to figure it out?"

"Maybe he won't need to. Or want to. I don't know." I plucked a moisturizing cream from the shelf, reading its ingredients intently even though none of them were being picked up by my brain.

"I just don't want you to get hurt. And I don't want my sister to get hurt either."

I sighed.

"And–," she started, looking at me apprehensively.

"What is it?"

"It's not just Astoria. It could be me too. If Father – if he finds out about Justin, I – I don't – I wouldn't know what to do," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the vial in her hand.

"What do you want me to do then? Take him off your hands so you and your sister can date whoever you want freely? Even if I wanted to, last time I checked my name's not in the Sacred Twenty-Eight so I'm not exactly in his pool of choices, aren't I?"

"That's – that's not what I meant," she said sheepishly.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just – don't want to think about it right now."

"Alright. We won't." She smiled at me as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder before diving through stories of her and Justin during the summer. She told me all about his family. How his parents owned a business involving computers, how they flew over this Muggle boarding school he was supposed to go to called Eton College, how his house was even bigger than theirs (much to my surprise).

Even as we walked to Flourish and Blotts, with Tonks following a couple of meters behind, Daphne whispered of all the Muggle _things_ she tried over the holidays. She talked about this chocolate spread called Nutella over and over again, my stomach rumbling at her description of its taste.

The squeak of shoes stopping abruptly prompted Daphne and I to turn back to Tonks. She was looking straight at the small space in the shop window, her face growing pale.

"I – I'll just wait for you two here," she said, striding to a quiet corner by the edge of the shop.

I frowned, confused what could possibly be inside for someone like _her_ to want to avoid it.

Soon enough, I found out.

A cold wave shot up my spine at the sight of two platinum blond heads standing by the counter. Draco was the first to turn, his already pale face growing even paler. He's grown a couple of inches over the summer, his shoulders more rounded, and his _face_. The fatigue was obvious. His undereyes were dark, his cheekbones were defined, and his eyes were completely blank. No longer readable.

He composed himself quickly. "Mother, this is–"

Narcissa turned, a faint sneer wrinkling her face. Then her eyes darted to Daphne and her lips bloomed into a grin. "Daphne! How are you, my dear?" she said, strolling towards her to give her a hug.

Draco followed her, his face completely blank. "This is Ava, Mother. Ava Adara. She's my _classmate_."

Narcissa's eyes fleeted to me, a polite smile on her lips as she nodded curtly. Then she quickly turned back to Daphne, entwining their arms together as she went on with her strikes of questions about the Greengrass sisters.

Daphne turned back to me worriedly as she was steered away by Draco's mother.

I nodded reassuringly.

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes on the two women's retreating figure. "I'll just–," my eyes darted to Draco's face quickly before dropping down to the floor, "–look for my books."

I scurried up the stairs, my heart beating out of my chest. I heard his footsteps close behind me.

"Adara..." I heard him say, his voice low. _Careful._ Careful not to be heard by his mother.

I quickened my pace, plucking the booklist out of my purse and unfolding it in front of me despite knowing full well the titles and authors of the books I had to buy. I let my eyes wander the space, looking for the section labeled 'Potions.'

I made haste towards the bookshelf, scanning my eyes for the _Advanced Potion Making_ by _Libatius Borage._ I found it at the second shelf from the top, and I stood on my tip-toes in a clumsy attempt to reach it.

Draco picked it off the shelf with ease, and I was met with his black-cladded chest as the heels of my feet dropped back down to the floor.

I gulped nervously.

His fingers found my chin, gently pulling my face up to look at him.

I forced a sweet smile. "Yes?"

It was only then that I realized that I had led us to an otherwise empty corner of the bookshop, the only other people a flight of stairs down. It was dimly-lit, a number of bookshelves obstructing any possible shopper's sight of us.

He looked down at me, his eyes scanning mine. Then his head dipped down and I jolted back instinctively.

He frowned, his hand falling back down to his side.

"That's not the correct way to greet your _classmate,_ Draco." I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowing at him without my consent. A small cauldron of frustration was bubbling inside my stomach and despite my attempts to snuff out the fire, it was nearing its boiling point.

He shook his head, a scowl forming on his face. "What did you want me to do? Kiss you in front of my mother?" he whispered angrily.

"If we're on the topic of what I _want_ you to do, I would have really appreciated it if you hadn't left me in the rain believing you were _dead,"_ I spat, my voice low yet furious. _I would appreciate it if you weren't being married off to someone else,_ I thought but refused to say out loud.

He rolled his eyes. "It's been weeks, Adara. I would have thought you'd gotten over that by now."

My eyes widened in anger. "I thought you were dead! For an entire week, I thought you had died. Or splinched. Or–"

His face fell, his eyes dropping down to the floor.

I inhaled sharply. "You did, didn't you?" My tone had gone soft. I took a step forward, placing my hand on his arm.

"It doesn't matter," he replied coldly as he met my eyes.

"Where?" I whispered, letting my fingers brush up the fabric of his black coat.

He pushed my hand away. "I told you. It doesn't matter," he snapped.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Draco. Can you stop being such an insufferable git for once and just–"

He grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the end of the shelf and pushing my back against it. His hands were flat against the wood behind me.

"You forget who you're talking to," he sneered down at me.

I jutted my chin up, glaring at him. "So do you."

And for a moment, our eyes were caught in a raging wrestle. His minty breath was a warm gust across my face as his hand found the back of my head and twisted them in my hair forcefully.

Draco had always been rough. Ungentle. Cruel. But whatever happened between today and that day in the ocean, it had turned him into something else. The air around him felt like cold knives sticking out, the facade he's always worn around himself now doubled, even tripled, in layers.

But where there should have been fear, there was courage. Where there should have been panic, there was calm. Where there should have been caution, there was trust.

Because no matter how good Draco Malfoy was at hiding, I was better at seeing.

 _He won't hurt me,_ a voice in the back of my head whispered.

Our lips found each other like magnets.

And just like the last time, it was as if we were breathing for the first time. Desperate. Hungry. Aggressive. His mouth opened to mine and mine to his.

Not before long, his hand had hitched my leg to wrap around his hips.

 _This_ was wrong. Lips meant for someone else lapping and sucking on mine. Hands belonging to someone else grazing the skin below the hem of my skirt. Someone betrothed to someone else pushing me up against a dusty bookshelf in a dark corner just a few meters away from his own mother.

It felt _nasty._ I was _nasty._ But I couldn't find the guilt within myself as rubbles of _want_ flowed out of him and into me. Settling somewhere _deep_ , _deep, deep_ in my stomach. Somewhere even _lower,_ the ache overwhelming that spot between my thighs.

He fluttered kisses on my chin and down my jaw and neck.

"We shouldn't," I whispered even as I grabbed fistfuls of his undershirt in my hands.

"Mhm," he hummed against my neck.

My breathing shuddered as he nipped my pulse point. "We _really, really, really_ shouldn't."

"Yeah," he panted, the warmth of his breath brushing down my collarbones. "We'll stop."

"We will," I whispered before crashing my lips back to his.

"Just," he said in between kisses, "for... a while..."

"Yeah," I panted as the hand on my thigh slid up to my bottom. "Then we'll stop."

I fluttered kisses from the shell of his ear, letting my lips graze down the skin of his neck. Gooseflesh ran up my body as a low groan escaped his mouth, one of his hands palming my arse. The other hand found the base of my neck, squeezing gently.

"Draco!" I heard the sing-song voice of his mother call from downstairs.

We ripped apart automatically, my skirt falling back down to its place. We hastily brushed through our hair, patting down the mess we've both made on each other. And in an impressive bit of magic, he flicked his wand and every book on my list flew out of their shelves and hovered in front of me. And with another flick of his wand, another stack appeared.

"For Daphne," he explained, scanning my body up and down to check for any anomalies.

I grabbed the books quickly just as he ran down the stairs.

I counted to a hundred before joining the rest of them. In a rush, Daphne and I paid for our books as Narcissa invited us to Madam Malkin's.

As we exited Flourish and Blotts, I whipped my head around to look for Tonks and I found her peeking through a corner, her finger over her mouth as she shook her head at me. My eyes went round in surprise but before anyone could catch it, I nodded and followed the rest of them.

"Your parents allowed you to shop by yourselves?" Narcissa asked, a brow quirked skeptically.

"Oh, no, Mother had an Auror accompany us. She was just," Daphne said, looking around the area; I shook my head faintly, gesturing for her to stop, "...here. But I'm sure she's just around the corner." She laughed nervously.

Narcissa's lips flattened into a thin line as Draco pushed the door open to Madam Malkin's. "You need to report that. He shouldn't have left you unsupervised."

Daphne nodded.

We scuttered off to where Madam Malkin was standing, ready with her tape measure and her pins. Narcissa gestured for the seamstress to deal with us first as she and Draco sat down on a velvet yellow chaise. After a few minutes of the old lady fretting over us, she led us to separate dressing areas, enclosed only by a thick curtain of black velvet.

"...not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping _alone,"_ I heard Draco say.

There was a clucking noise I vaguely recognize as Madam Malkin's. "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child–"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

A few seconds later, we heard Draco speak again.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a _mudblood_ just walked in."

The curtain between me and Daphne froze as the two of us stopped shuffling.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" Madam Malkin exclaimed.

I redressed myself in a rush, hanging the robes on their respective hangers before slipping out through the curtains unnoticed. Potter, Granger, and Ron had their backs turned to us from their position by the entrance. The two boys had drawn their wands in front of them, standing protectively in front of Granger.

"And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!" Madam Malkin added just as Daphne slipped out of her dressing area.

"No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it," Granger whispered.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," Draco sneered. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"That's quite enough!" Madam Malkin snapped, looking over her shoulder to where Narcissa stood. "Madam – please–"

Narcissa walked out from behind the clothes rack.

"Put those away," she said coldly. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that is the last thing you ever do."

"Really?" Potter said, taking a step towards Narcissa. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

Daphne gripped my arm tightly, her eyes wide as we stared at the commotion.

Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart. "Really, you shouldn't accuse – dangerous things to say – wands away, please!"

But none of them lowered their wands. Narcissa smiled frostily.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

Potter looked around the shop theatrically. "Wow... look at that... he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Draco marched towards Potter, drawing his own wand up high. "Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" he snarled.

"It's all right, Draco," Narcissa said, restraining him with her pale, slender fingers upon his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

A faint gasp escaped my lips at her words. Potter raised his wand higher.

"Harry, no!" Granger grabbed his arm and attempted to push it down to his side. "Think... You mustn't... You'll be in such trouble..."

Madam Malkin scuttered towards Draco's side, seemingly decided to ignore the confrontation happening inside her store. She bent over, her fingers brushing the hem of his left sleeve.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just–"

Draco slapped her hand away, his eyes widened in shock. Then his face fell into a sneer. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don't think I want these anymore–"

He pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco," Narcissa said, sneering at Granger, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here... We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

And with that, Daphne and I hung our robes at the nearest clothing rack and we scurried out the shop after the Malfoys, Draco making sure to bang his shoulder on each of the trio forcefully.

Draco was marching in front of the three of us, his footsteps heavy with his rage, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

Narcissa turned to Daphne, her face crinkled in contempt. "This is why I always say... those _filthy_ mudbloods really do not have a place in our society!"

Daphne was forced to nod and my heart skipped a beat as Narcissa's gaze turned to me. I wiped the frown off my face immediately before nodding.

We had our robes fitted at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Narcissa ranted to Madam Twilfitt, the seamstress nodding aggressively and even offering her own set of insults towards a Muggleborn she's never even met. Daphne was in the dressing room, and I sat in one of the lounge sofas near the back.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, Draco was slipping out of the shop and onto the streets.


	28. Compartment

The last week of the summer holidays was spent pondering the meaning of Draco's behavior back in Diagon Alley. After a few moments of Narcissa's chit-chat with the seamstress, she finally noticed Draco's absence. And her behavior, too, I pondered. She was hysterical as soon as she realized Draco was nowhere to be found, and while I understood how dangerous it was, she accidentally let slip a few choice words that had piqued my interest.

 _He._ She kept blabbering about a _He._

When Draco returned, he had to take his mother in his arms to calm her down. In the inner pocket of his robe was a small vial of Calming Draught, and with gentle hands, he helped her down it. He had mentioned once that his mother struggled with the same thing I did, but it was only then that I realized the depth of his words.

I tried catching his eye. Tried showing him I understood. That I was there, just like I had promised.

But he wouldn't look me in the eyes. His gaze was set on his mother, and his mother only. He explained to her that he only left to check something from a store he had seen on our walk towards Twilfitt and Tatting's, yet no matter how many times he repeated it, his patience never ceased. He stroked her hair until she had run out of tears and the shaking off her shoulders stopped.

Shortly after, the four of us said our goodbyes, Narcissa profusely offered her apologies for her outburst, and despite our attempts at reassuring her, I knew she would go home with guilt heavy around her shoulders.

I wished I could have told her that I understood. That I felt it too. And unlike what sugarcoated stories of romance and fantasies have led us to believe, I knew it was a pain that was downright ugly.

If only it felt as simple as a dagger striking through the chest.

_It didn't._

It was a castle of ice being built as armor around your heart in an attempt to keep away the vicious swarm of butterflies fluttering inside your stomach. It wasn't simply crying yourself to sleep and waking up in a pool of your sweat. It was also gagging in incredibly inappropriate moments. It was clammy palms and nightmares that didn't even make sense. It was burying all sense of pride and ego to beg for relief because _anything_ was better than this.

It was both dying yet surviving. Breaking yet healing. Flying yet falling.

On our car ride back to Daphne's house, I wondered _why._ Why certain people struggled and certain people don't. On my many visits to a Mind Healer in St. Mungo's as a kid, they explained that anxiety was most commonly born out of a traumatic experience. The Wizarding world was slow to acknowledge that such illnesses even existed, especially since all research had been done by Muggle doctors. A couple of years ago, they were simply reduced to terms such as _extreme sadness,_ or _lack of self-control,_ among other things.

It was difficult to be a witch with an illness not a lot of people understand. But Draco did. He figured it out when nobody else could. Without me having to spell it out for him. And it was all because of his mother. So, I had to wonder... What had happened to Narcissa for her to experience the world the same way I do? And what had happened to me for me to perceive the world the way I do?

When the car halted to a stop, my thoughts did too. I decided then that maybe some questions were better left unanswered.

When the car drove away, I realized that I forgot to ask Tonks why she was hiding from the Malfoys.

I went home to Cornwall on the same day.

On the 31st of August, I had used the Floo yet again to spend the night at Daphne's. We planned on traveling to King's Cross together so as not to tire my aunts. When I arrived, so did the Malfoy's gifts to the Greengrasses. And again, I gulped down the lump in my throat as the Greengrass matriarch gushed about the presents, even in the face of Daphne and Astoria's glum expressions.

The next day, the three of us sped through Platform 9 ¾ in silence. As soon as we boarded the Hogwarts Express, Astoria had left to find fellow fourth-year Slytherins, and Daphne and I sought out Pansy and the others.

We had found the compartment that Millie and Tracey were in, and just after exchanging niceties, they quickly got down to business with all the fresh new gossip.

"Did you see those fourth-year Gryffindors fawning over Potter?" Millie said with a laugh. "He might be the _Chosen One_ but he's still scar-face to me." She rolled her eyes, throwing her hair back.

Tracey let loose an uncontrollable fit of giggles. "Well, no one ever said Gryffindors had _taste."_

Daphne quickly changed the subject to O.W.L. results, and as Millie started reciting her grades, my attention had been caught by a certain blond boy who should have been in the prefect's carriage with Pansy. He was sitting with Blaise in silence, even as Crabbe and Goyle came running around to bully first-years.

My view was obstructed when a blonde third-year Ravenclaw started knocking on our compartment's door. Millie slid the door open.

"I'm supposed to deliver this to Daphne G-Greengrass," she said, breathless. She was holding out a scroll of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Frowning, Daphne took the scroll from the girl's hand before muttering a small thank you as she unrolled it next to me.

_Miss Greengrass,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely,_   
_Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_

She rolled her eyes.

"What is it?" Millie asked, her eyes brimming with excitement.

"Slug Club," Daphne explained, chuckling.

"Oh," Millie said, her shoulders slouching.

"What is that?" Tracey asked.

"Oh, it's just this professor trying to build his connections," Daphne laughed. "Mother told me all about it. Said it was useless." She shrugged.

"Professor Slughorn?" I asked. "But he's new, isn't he?"

"He returned from retirement, I think," Daphne said.

Blaise peeked his head through our compartment. "Daphne, you coming?" he asked, waving his own scroll of parchment at us.

Daphne scrunched up her nose as she shook her head. "Not in the mood."

"Alright then," he said, shrugging. "Hi, Adara," he said, ruffling up my hair. "Millie, Tracey," he greeted politely with a curt nod.

"Have fun," I chimed as he walked away.

Then my eyes trailed to the now empty compartment Draco sat in.

"Go," Daphne whispered, rolling her eyes.

I flashed her a sheepish smile before walking over, leaving Sofia in Daphne's care.

He slid the door open before I could knock.

"Hi," I muttered, albeit awkwardly as I sat down.

"Hi," he said blankly.

He was calm. Composed. Quiet. He sat upright, his back straight, his left ankle propped up on his right knee. Just like the past year, he wore his black suit and black turtleneck combo, but unlike then, his shoulders filled up its breadth, his sleeves falling just right on his wrists, and his chest puffed against his lapel. He had grown into his body over the summer. Gone were the childish grins and jokes, and in its place were stoic stares and silence.

"Are you–"

But before I could finish my sentence, a howling Crabbe and Goyle returned, Pansy in tow.

"Malfoy," she said with a newfound nonchalance. "Why weren't you in the prefect's meeting?"

Crabbe and Goyle plopped down to the seat opposite us, grinning and snickering about certain fifth-year girls they had decided to prey on for the year.

"I'm resigning," Draco said with a slight shrug.

Pansy frowned. "You could do that?"

"No clue, but they can't really do anything if I didn't want to participate, can they?"

"Oh. Alright," Pansy said before turning to me. "Hi Adara," she greeted me before ruffling my hair. Then without a word of goodbye, she turned away and walked back to our compartment.

"Why are you resigning?" I asked.

He turned to me, quirking an eyebrow. "I thought we agreed no questions?"

I looked at him incredulously. "This is getting ridiculous–"

He sighed. "I just don't want to be a prefect this year," he said, his tone clipped.

"Why not?"

I was not even offered the respect of a response.

My first instinct was to get up and leave. No welcoming gestures were given, and societal conduct implies that I was an unwanted guest.

Curiosity killed the cat.

I stayed despite the discomfort. I stayed if only for the sliver of hope that a few of my questions will be answered by the end of the train ride.

Draco stood up and reached for the luggage rack where a black leather bag sat, and inside he picked out one of the textbooks required for the year. He handed it to me silently. _Confronting The Faceless,_ it read in black embossed letters.

He sat down with his own book in his hand.

I flipped open the book, letting my eyes scan through the words even as my brain refused entry to any of the written information. Even as the flame of curiosity burned the skin of my palm.

I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck. "Draco," I said warily. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he answered offhandedly, his eyes stuck on his book.

"Draco–"

He sighed exasperatedly, looking up at me with a sharp edge of impatience in his eyes.

"Are you – is everything... alright?" I asked.

He paused, hesitation flashing across his face. He nodded shortly afterward.

"Are you sure?" I asked again.

"Would you truly be unable to just sit there and be quiet?" he snapped.

My head jolted back to my neck in shock.

I scowled, the indignance rising up my throat. I looked around the compartment in mock-curiosity. "I didn't know we've returned to the 50s," I said, the harshness peeking through behind the facade of composure.

_"What?"_

"Why else would you think it's acceptable to tell a woman to sit down and be quiet?"

He slammed his book shut, looking completely affronted by what I was implying. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Well, if you didn't want to be accused of misogyny, maybe you should be careful with how you phrase certain demands you direct towards girls. Or better yet, realize you're not entitled to–"

He exhaled sharply. He took a deep breath, nodded his head with a small bow of obviously false apology, and then resumed ignoring me and reading his book.

I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering when Draco Malfoy stopped stupidly enjoying arguments.

When Zabini returned from his _lunch_ with Professor Slughorn, he had Pansy in tow. Ava had fallen asleep, her temple pressed against the glass of the train window. Crabbe and Goyle sat opposite us, both reading their very own pair of uselesscomic books.

"What's wrong with this thing?" Zabini said, thrusting the sliding door close over and over again but to no avail. Pansy had sat down next to me, forcing me to scoot closer to Ava.

I frowned when the door was pushed open, making Zabini fall onto the Goyle's lap. As the two desperately attempted to push away from each other, there was a flash of white in the air over Zabini's seat.

I blinked and it was gone. My eyes fleeted to the luggage rack, and I could swear I saw something move. Before I could inspect further, my attention was caught by my two roommates snarling at each other like a bunch of barbaric animals.

I rolled my eyes just as Goyle pushed Zabini off of him before slamming the sliding door shut.

"What did Slughorn want?" I asked, rubbing the palm of my hand on my knee.

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," he said. "Not that he managed to find many."

 _Well-connected._ There was no other person in the godforsaken train who was better connected than I was. I am a _Malfoy,_ for Merlin's sake.

"Who else had he invited?" I demanded.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor."

I nodded once. "His uncle's big in the Ministry."

"–someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw–"

Pansy gasped. "Not him, he's a prat!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"–and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl," Zabini finished.

My eyes went round as I leaned forward. "He invited _Longbottom?"_

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there."

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?"

Zabini shrugged.

"Potter," I scoffed. " _Precious_ Potter, obviously he wanted a look at _'the Chosen One',"_ I said, my nose scrunching together, "but that Weasley girl. What's so special about _her?"_

"A lot of boys like her," Pansy said, eyeing Zabini warily. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," Zabini said coldly.

Pansy's lips twitched into a pleased smile.

I crossed my arm over my chest. "Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile," I laughed icily. " _Shame,_ my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or–"

"I wouldn't back on an invitation," Zabini said. "He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry, he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

I clenched my jaw as the scar on my arm started to itch. I forced out a dry chuckle.

"Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher." I yawned, sneaking a glance to make sure Ava was still asleep. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

Pansy's gaze snapped to me. "What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?"

"Well, you never know," I said, a smirk pulling on the corner of my lips. "I might have moved on to bigger and better things."

And despite the piercing sensation on my left arm, the look on their faces sent a surge of elation up my spine. _This was it._ This was my chance to prove myself. To prove to the Dark Lord that he was not wrong to place his trust in me. To prove to everyone that _I_ should have been the one they cheered on, not that son-of-a-bitch scar-face. Saint _fucking_ Potter. _The Chosen One._

Well... I was _chosen_ too.

"Do you mean – _Him?"_

I shrugged.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it... When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't... It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for him?" Zabini asked, his tone biting. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for."

They all stared at me as if I was some sort of god, it almost made me laugh. Before I could gloat even more, I saw Ava stir in my peripheral.

"I can see Hogwarts," I said, hastily changing the subject. "We'd better get our robes on."

Ava rubbed her hands over her eyes as our compartment made a ruckus of grabbing their trunks. Goyle stood up, clumsily letting his comic fall off his lap and onto the floor. He reached over his head, his hand absentmindedly scouring the luggage rack for his bag. When he pulled on it, it hit something with a thud. Then followed a gasp.

It took a while for it to dawn on me. I blinked up at the overhead compartment.

Then the puzzle pieces started falling into place. The flash of white _._ Someone has been eavesdropping from the luggage rack. But who? Who would be suspicious enough to actually spy on me? And who even owns an Invisibility–

_Potter._

My nose flared as a swell of rage gripped my throat.

That _fucking_ bastard.

Ava looked at me worriedly as I clenched and unclenched my fists at the sides. Everyone else had stood up to grab their robes and their trunks, apart from me and Ava. I jerked my head to the side to gesture for her to go ahead.

Frowning, she stood up and left my compartment to grab her belongings.

Plastering on a vacant face, I stood up and grabbed my trunk, careful not to let it be known to that son of a bitch that I knew of his presence. I pulled on my school robes and locked my trunk just as the train slowed to a jerky crawl.

The corridors started filling up as students left their compartments. Finally, with its last stagger, Hogwarts Express came to a complete halt. All at once, Crabbe and Goyle muscled their way through the crowd to let the rest of our friends pass. Pansy threw her hair off her shoulder as she strutted her way past a bunch of fuming onlookers, Millie and Tracey at her tail. Zabini, Daphne, and Nott followed suit, and just as expected, Ava was at the back, letting everyone else go first.

With her doe-eyes, she looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to exit my compartment just outside the door.

"You go on," I said. "I just want to check something."

With a frown, she nodded once before following the rest of them, letting herself be drifted away by the crowd of exiting students.

I watched people file past the compartment, drawing in ragged breaths to somehow appease the bubbling rage. _Shut it down,_ Aunt Bella had taught me. _File it away somewhere safe to deal with later. Do not let emotions muddle your power._

I slid the compartment door shut before letting down the blinds. With a now steady hand, I bent down my trunk and opened it. Just as my fingers wrapped around my wand, I swiftly pointed it at Potter and–

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_


	29. Obsessive

It was cold. Mist floated around us, clouding my vision as I scuttered past the crowd of students on the platform of Hogsmeade Station. Each face I could make out behind the fog was downturned with gloom and fright. There were Aurors strolling past us too; securing the vicinity, guarding the students, making sure no one had been left inside the train.

I pushed past the crowd in an attempt to reach Daphne and the others. They were already boarding the carriage and I was a few meters away when someone brushed past abruptly, making the ends of my robe jump up from the fan of air the motion prompted.

Draco stormed past me, anger weighing down his footsteps. He shouldered anyone who wasn't frightened enough to move away from his path, and as I ran after him, I received seething glares from those who fell victim to his wrath. Each of his strides equaled three of my steps and by the time we had reached the carriages, I was out of breath.

With a scowl on his face, he hauled me up just as it started moving. Daphne looked at me warily as I sat next to her but, like everyone else in the carriage, was silenced in the wake of Draco's fury. We reached the giant oak front doors, a heavy silence weighing down on us. No one dared to speak nor ask him what had happened.

Even during the feast in the Great Hall, he spoke to no one.

It was something I would never admit to him but I could not continue deceiving myself by saying that I wasn't frightened. Not of him. _No._ Never of him. But of the way his hands were balled into fists and the way the muscles of his jaw rippled and the way he glowered at everything and everyone in his sight.

Of the unnatural cold at the beginning of September. Of the presence of Aurors in Hogwarts. Of the stories the ghosts have been telling about the First Wizarding War.

There was a lot to be fearful about. The Inferi, the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters, the Dark Creatures, the Giants... The list is endless.

But nothing... Nothing would ever parallel the way my heart skipped a beat when I saw our Headmaster's right hand.

Dumbledore was the hope that the Wizarding World held on to. The only one more powerful than the Dark Lord. The sole reason why I was allowed back to Hogwarts. And _yet,_ his wand-wielding hand looked dead and black. It was as though it was covered in soot.

Just as the entreés disappeared from the table, Dumbledore had stood up. The students who had just grabbed hold of their pudding froze with the sight. And then came the whispers.

He merely smiled and adjusted his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he reassured. "Now... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

"What the fuck," Pansy whispered.

Everyone looked aghast. No matter their distaste for our Headmaster, no one ever denied that he brought with him a sense of safety to his students. And if Dumbledore was not alright, then that must mean Hogwarts wasn't either.

"...and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn–," Slughorn stood up, a bald-headed man with a waistcoat, "–is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

_"Potions?"_

This piqued Draco's interest. He looked up from his plate to look at the Headmaster for a second before dropping his head back down, absentmindedly levitating his fork with his wand.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore added, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The entirety of Slytherin House seemed to think that it was good news because our table roared in applause. Professor Snape raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment.

Dumbledore paused before speaking again.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The room stilled, the coil of silence being pulled taut with each word.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you should not be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes scanned the room, his eyes landing on mine for a second, before continuing his sweep.

He smiled. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

Draco stood up from his seat loudly, letting his utensils clank on the plate. He marched out of the room, leaving the rest of us behind.

The next day, Professor Snape sorted our schedules according to our O.W.L. results. I had been cleared to attend Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Potions. I chose to drop other subjects that weren't necessary for Aurorship.

On our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Draco, Theo, Pansy, Blaise, and I entered a gloomy room with the curtains drawn shut, lit by only candlelight. Pictures of gore adorned the walls. Contorted body parts, a witch writhing in pain, bloody injuries. The class was silent as we sat down.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said, closing the door and moving to the front of the class. Granger and a bunch of Ravenclaws dropped their copies of _Confronting the Faceless_ back into their bags. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

His black eyes swept through the classroom.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

Snape started walking around the edge of the room, his voice dropping low.

"The Dark Arts," Snape said, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

The five of us leaned forward in our seats simultaneously. Next to me, Theo propped his chin on the palm of his hand, his elbow resting on the desk in front of us.

"Your defenses," Snape added, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures–," he gestured to them as he swept past, "–give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse–," he waved a hand toward a witch who was shrieking in agony, "–feel the Dementor's Kiss–," a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyes, slumped against a wall, "–or provoke the aggression of the Inferius–," a pile of bloody bodies on the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked, her voice shrill. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk.

"...you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of nonverbal spells?"

I raised my hand slightly just as Granger's hand shot right up. I slumped back down.

Snape scanned his eyes around the room to make sure no one else had volunteered to answer. "Very well – Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she said, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six,"_ Snape said dismissively, "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some... _lack."_

Snape's gaze had frozen on someone and my eyes trailed to Potter who was glowering at Snape with equal tenacity.

"You will now divide," Snape said, turning away, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other _without speaking._ The other will attempt to repel the jinx _in equal silence._ Carry on."

I turned to Theo. Just as I was about to ask him if he wanted to be my partner, someone seized my wrist and pulled me out of my chair and onto a quiet corner of the room.

"Draco," I huffed, my brows furrowed in indignance.

"You go first," Draco said, his expression blank as he walked back, keeping a polite distance between us.

I looked back at the rest of the class. Blaise and Pansy were just a few meters away from us, and Theo had found a partner with an odd-looking brown-haired Ravenclaw boy.

Gulping, I pointed my wand at him, mentally uttering _Impedimenta_ over and over again.

Nothing.

After ten minutes, Draco shifted his stance, gesturing for us to switch. My heart doubled its pace as I desperately attempted to cast the Shield Charm over myself nonverbally.

His wand flashed a bright purple light. My legs buckled and I fell on my knees with a thud. Heat rose up my face and I let my hair fall down to cover my flush.

"Get up," Draco commanded without missing a beat.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself not to wince as I pushed myself off the floor.

"You need to focus," he said. "Stop thinking about everything else and just focus."

I fought back the urge to glare at him.

He drew his wand high and before I could even attempt to cast another Shield Charm, I was knocked backward and I fell on my bottom, sending a jolt of pain up my spine.

Nearby pairs had stopped to stare.

I looked up at Draco and gone was the gentleness in his eyes I had thought I earned. No pity nor fury. Completely indecipherable.

I huffed a sharp exhale. I stood up, rubbing my lower back with the heel of my hand.

"Mind giving me a few moments since you _clearly_ don't need any more practice?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He nodded once, drawing his wand back to himself.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as I attempted to file away other unnecessary thoughts.

 _Protego – Protego – Protego,_ I chanted repeatedly in my head.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I was lifted from the air, a smirk curling on Draco's lips. I hovered a few inches above the ground for almost a minute before he let me down and I stumbled backward in an attempt to catch my balance.

I clenched my jaw, turning my back to him. I rubbed my temples with my knuckles in frustration.

"We're not done," I heard his silvery voice say from behind me.

I turned on my heel, crossing my arms over my chest. "What? Not yet satisfied?"

His mouth twitched. "Not yet," he said. "Your attempts are pathetic. I told you to focus."

I chewed the inside of my lip, biting back the bark that threatened to escape my mouth. "I've been trying," I said instead, faking a calm.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Try harder."

I plastered on a false smile.

 _Protego – Protego – Protego,_ I thought again, and after a few minutes, a faint sheen enclosed around me.

Draco's eyes glinted.

Then his wand pointed low and in a flash, a thick coil of rope was wrapped tightly around my ankles. I staggered, losing my balance. Before I could fall forward, he had appeared in front of me, gripping my arms to steady me.

"Protect your entire body, not just your upper extremities," he said, a corner of his lips upturned.

I huffed. "Give me a break," I said, glaring up at him.

For a moment we had stood there, his hands wrapped around my arms. He looked down at me, his gaze searing a trail across my skin, his warmth sending electricity all over my body. I searched his eyes for something. _Anything._

My mind had become a whirlwind of unanswered questions. What happened to you? How do you know how to execute non-verbal spells? Where did you learn all these new dueling techniques?

My curiosity as to what had happened over the summer had started as a small flame but had now grown into an inferno. It burned my insides like wildfire.

He must have realized what I had been pondering because he stepped away, the smirk falling off his face.

"Again," he said vacantly as he walked back into position. A second after, the ropes disappeared.

♰

Draco ignored me during lunch in the Great Hall as he sat between Crabbe and Goyle. He devoured his lunch quickly and left as soon as possible without even a word of goodbye.

 _Why?_ Again and again, I asked myself. It was as though I was missing a puzzle piece. I couldn't make out the picture. And it stung. Because whilst I couldn't figure out the answer, my brain kept supplying childish possibilities.

He regrets it. Kissing you. Touching you.

He never meant it. He was just lonely and you were just easy. You _did_ bend over backward to be at his beck and call for an entire year. What're a few kisses more?

He's exacting revenge. You deceived him. Lied to him. And now he's trying to confuse you.

And then as though a stone hitting a glass window, there came a crack.

 _No._ Draco wouldn't do that to you. He promised. You trust him. Just trust him.

I sighed, grimacing into the glass of orange juice as I begged my brain to stop running in circles.

After spending my break with Daphne, I walked down to the Potions classroom alone. Only four Slytherins advanced to N.E.W.T. level, and when I reached the dungeons there were only a dozen students lined up outside the corridors, including me. There were Draco, Theodore, and Blaise, four Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor's esteemed heroes, Granger, Ron, and Potter.

I walked past Ernie MacMillan, who was quite obviously attempting to cozy up with _Mr. Chosen One_ , and toward the front of the line where the three boys stood waiting.

It was no wonder any of us had any friends outside of our House. They stood tall, shoulders squared, and their arms crossed over their puffed-out chest. I had to wonder if I looked as unapproachable as they did.

Before I could assess myself, the dungeon door opened and Professor Slughorn's belly peeked out of it before the rest of his body followed. As we entered the room, his mouth curved upward enthusiastically to greet Potter and Blaise.

The smell of vapor wafted around the room, the scent growing strong as I passed by large, bubbling cauldrons. A certain gold-colored cauldron piqued my olfactory senses as it emitted the most wonderful scent I've ever inhaled: it reminded me of the freshness of the ocean, the earthiness of the grass after rain, and, curiously, lavender. I couldn't help but smile.

The four of us took a table together, and I let my schoolbag plop down the floor just as Professor Slughorn closed the door.

"Now then, now then, now then," he said, his outline quivering behind the smoke of shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making..."_

I bent down to grab the materials, vaguely hearing Potter talking to the Professor about his lack of books and scales.

After the class had their equipment and books situated in front of them, Professor Slughorn returned to the front of the room.

"I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He gestured to the cauldron nearest us. I raised my hand, but once again, Granger beat me to it. Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she said.

"Very good, very good!" Slughorn said, grinning. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well-known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can–?"

Granger's hand shot up again, and a Ravenclaw with his hand half-raised rolled his eyes.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she answered, not bothering to wait for Professor Slughorn to call her name.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here... yes, my dear?" Professor Slughorn said, looking taken aback as Granger's hand punched the air yet again.

"It's Amortentia!"

Blaise shook his head, his nose upturned in contempt. "I swear to Merlin, if Granger wasn't a girl, I would have beaten the shit out of her," he muttered under his breath, making Theo and Draco chuckle.

"It is indeed," Slughorn said, looking mightily impressed. "It seems almost foolish to ask but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" Granger said, bouncing on her seat.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," she added enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and–"

"Nobody asked," Theo groaned, rubbing his fingers over his eyes, sending the rest of the boys into another fit of chuckles.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" Slughorn said.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

And without any of the three boys next to me saying a word, they started snickering. Apparently, her blood status alone was enough of a joke.

"Oho! _'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!'_ I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?" Slughorn said.

"Yes, sir," Potter replied.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

With that, even _I_ rolled my eyes. My three other Housemates weren't as subtle with their looks of indignation.

My attention had been caught by Ron who was huddled in with Potter and Granger.

"–impressive about that?" Ron whispered rather loudly, his face crinkled in annoyance. "You _are_ the best in the year – I'd have told him so if he'd asked me!"

Granger smiled but put her finger to her lips to shush her two friends.

"Amortentia doesn't really create _love,_ of course," Slughorn said. "It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room – oh yes." Slughorn nodded at Draco and Theo who were both smirking as though the professor were spewing a bunch of nonsense. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of _obsessive_ love..."

"And now," Slughorn added, "it is time to start work."

For the rest of Double Potions, we worked on concocting the Draught of Living Death, with a special incentive: a tiny bottle of Felix Felicis A.K.A. liquid luck as a prize for the one who could brew the best. Draco's eyes shot up, and for the first time during the entire period, he seemed to be giving the professor his complete attention. All too quickly, the class hastily attempted the Draught, all very eager to have an _'extraordinary day.'_ Suspiciously, it was Draco that seemed a lot more eager than the rest.

It almost goes without saying, but _obviously,_ it was _the_ Harry Potter who managed to garner the prize, much to Draco's dismay.

During dinner, Draco ignored me again, ate quickly, and left as soon as he finished. But during that short amount of time that he was near my vicinity, I watched him, the curiosity in me burning even brighter.

I laid down the facts in my brain like they were playing cards being drawn one at a time.

Both Draco and Narcissa have mentioned a " _He_." Voldemort?

It must be, but what about _Him_? What would the Dark Lord want with Draco? He was only sixteen. And despite my knowledge of his capabilities, I doubt that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would place his trust in a student. If he did, then that would make him an incredibly lousy wannabe tyrant.

But then–

It still explained nothing of his demeanor. What did he suspect would happen in the train that he hadn't allowed me to leave his compartment? And why did Tonks hide from the Malfoys? And running the risk of sounding like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush, why was he ignoring me? Why was he taunting me? Why did he kiss me in Flourish and Blotts only to barely pay me any mind now that we're back in Hogwarts?

In the face of the brewing war, my concerns paled in contrast to everything else. It made me feel incredibly callow and childish, and I hated myself for it. Wizards and witches were going missing, the death toll was rising, an extremist group was growing stronger, and there I was–

There I was feeling upset about a boy not giving me enough attention.

I almost laughed out loud. It sounded so silly, and yet I couldn't help but let it cause me dismay. I couldn't help but attempt to study him despite my resolve to stop – despite his reassurance that I would no longer need to. And I couldn't help but feel betrayed. Abandoned even. I was under the impression that after the day in the ocean, something had shifted.

And it should have come to no surprise of mine that I was yet again disappointed, but it was.

I _shouldn't_ even be hoping. He was already promised to somebody else. And Astoria's already dropped her own interests to accommodate their family's wishes.

Then a thought dawned on me.

Was it because of that? When we had "decided" to stop, with his lips against my neck and my hands around his waist, I didn't think either of us actually _meant_ it. Neither of us was particularly convincing, but maybe he took it to heart.

Did he?

Should I?

In my desperation, I zoomed in on him _._ Gone were the small quirks of his eyebrows, the gentle furrows on his forehead, the slight curls of his lips. No part of him was revealed to anyone unless he chose to.

And I couldn't understand.

I couldn't understand what had happened. I couldn't understand what it meant. I couldn't understand where I fit in this new picture.

Just two months ago, I had been certain of my place in his life. In his heart, even. And now–

Now, I don't know.

I scrapped the mental document I had of him: of his mannerisms and habits, of his moral code, and his psyche. Everything. It was debilitating. It was as though I was throwing away a year's worth of hard work. Because that's was it was, wasn't it? I had earned my way into Draco's life, and I think it would be fair to say that I did a better job than any other person in this school. For one thing, I _did_ try harder than anyone else.

I had assumed that at this point, I would be reaping the benefits. And less than a year ago, I would have been more than satisfied with the Unbreakable Vow he made to keep my secret safe. But now–

I had fallen and I suppose that was my failing.

Because when I had been buried with fear that he was going to die, it seemed as though a part of him _did_.

–

_**LISTEN:** _ _Problem With You – Sabrina Claudio_


	30. Potion

**_LISTEN:_ ** _So Lonely – Jorja Smith_

Blood oozed out the corner of my cuticles. My thumb immediately halted scratching on the nail bed of my index finger when a stinging pain accompanied the dripping scarlet. A late hiss escaped my mouth, drawing the attention of the brown-haired boy seating next to me in the Great Hall.

Theo handed me a white handkerchief silently.

I inhaled a sharp breath, shame spreading across my chest. Swallowing down the discomfort, I took the handkerchief, nodding curtly in a show of gratitude.

I wrapped it around my bleeding finger, a lightness reaching my head at the sight of blood seeping through the white fabric. An accidental product of my fidgeting.

The rest of them remained oblivious, their laughter a seeming distant background noise to the incessant worry in my head. Pansy was still Pansy. She was poking fun of a fourth-year Gryffindor, Millie's and Tracey's giggles a familiar accompaniment to her jabs. Daphne had snuck out to eat dinner with Justin under the Viaduct. Blaise was stowed away by his Quidditch teammates. After Draco's announcement of his resignation, Blaise became the interim Captain much to his dismay and much to the shock of Slytherin House. The team was left without a leader and without a Seeker. Draco became the target of glares and grimaces, to which he responded with a mirror reflection except twofold.

When he wasn't seething and glowering at everybody, he disappeared to Merlin-knows-where with Crabbe and Goyle.

I sat there watching everyone's smiles and laughter and even more smiles. An aquarium of colorful and bubbling figures, joking and teasing and pushing each other as though outside our wards weren't Death lying in wait. And the professors were surely trying their hardest to retain a sense of normalcy. Tall hourglasses filled with red, blue, yellow, and green stones stood as an eyesore, a comical contrast to the clear fear and glum in their eyes.

No one in this goddamned school was honest. They all acted as if nothing was amiss.

The show must fucking go on.

Quidditch try-outs, mountains of homework, gossip about crushes and new couples – and worst of all, House flags strewn all over the walls as if none of us were ready to raise our very own personal white flags.

As if no one noticed how quick Professor McGonagall jumped at any sudden noises. And how Filch was even more hyper-alert than he usually was. And that the high-backed golden chair where our Headmaster sat on during mealtimes was empty.

Or maybe no one has.

Maybe it was only me looking too closely. Maybe it was only me analyzing every little detail in hopes of making sense of something. _Anything._

My life had been wrecked by a tornado made with unanswered questions.

Who were my parents? What did Dumbledore have to do with anything? What did my uncle know? Where was Draco and what had happened to him?

Why – in a room full of people – did I feel utterly alone?

In the aftermath of the havoc wreaked by the act of God that was my confusion, I stood as the lone survivor. And at that moment, I had no idea how I was going to survive.

I downed another Draught of Peace when I felt the beginnings of panic crept up my skin.

Every day since I've left home, fear twisted my gut each morning that I woke up, only a copy of the Daily Prophet capable of easing the ache. The only consolation of reading about deaths and disappearances was knowing that _at the very least,_ my aunts were still alive. I was still alive. Daphne and Draco were still alive.

And – I knew I shouldn't. I really hated that I did.

On good days, one vial of Draught of Peace could get me through the day. On others, one vial of a Calming Draught in the morning, another vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion with a few drops of Sleeping Draught at night.

I kept my stash hidden from plain view, knowing full well that if anyone ever found out, I'd be sent to St. Mungo's by the break of dawn.

I took my vial of Essence of Dittany from the pocket of my school robes, pouring a tiny drop down the side of my nails. I watched intently as the skin healed itself, the red seeping through disappearing behind the magic.

Having lost my appetite, I retreated back to the dungeons with a promise to Theo to replace his handkerchief with a new one.

That night, I attempted to sneak out of the castle to fly. I've managed to talk myself into it, using flimsy reasons such as – no Death Eater knew about my status as an Animagi, no one would want anything to do with a dove, and I could simply fly away if need be. That it was worth it, if only for a few moments.

I laid in bed past midnight, waiting for everyone to fall asleep. When the breathing in the room grew heavy and even, I slipped out of the dormitory on my tiptoes, careful not to make a sound as I closed the door.

The common room was empty and quiet, all the candles snuffed out. I was a meter away from the door when a sudden hiss filled the room making me jump in shock. I pointed my wand at the would-be intruder instinctively.

"Where are you going?" "Where have you been?"

Those were the first words Draco and I have said to each other in three weeks.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes. "I was just – uh–," he sighed, "–it's none of your business."

"Oh," I said, drawing my wand back to myself. "Alright," I said, stepping aside to move towards the door.

With a side-step, he blocked my way. I looked up, frowning.

"Where are you going?" he said, a tone of insistence in his voice as he looked down at me.

I arched an eyebrow, folding my hands over my chest. "None of your business?"

He shook his head. "I forbid you to leave the castle at night."

I took a step backward. "You _forbid_ me?"

"Before you go on another feminist monologue, may I remind you that it is against the rules and as a prefect, I am merely enforcing them."

I blinked at him, my fists balling at my sides. "You said you were resigning."

He shrugged. "Officially, I could still give you detention."

I scoffed. "That's – _not_ fair."

He simply gave another disinterested shrug.

And then there was nothing left to say except for the words that remained unspoken. The questions I longed to ask hovered in the air between us as though they were a string that connected our eyes together. As though it were coiling right in front of us, waiting for the other to give in.

With one blink, the string was cut and he took a step backward.

"Go back to your room," he said imperiously, stepping aside and making a move towards the boy's dormitory.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed hold of his wrist. "Draco," I said, cautiousness stiffening my tone.

He froze.

Our breathing grew heavy under the darkness, the skin touching skin the only warmth the room provided.

I finally gathered up the courage to ask. "Did I do something wrong?" I said, turning to face him.

When I caught his eye, he drew his hand back to himself.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"You know what."

"No," he said, his voice deadened. "I don't."

The swell of frustration rose up to my head.

"Yeah – okay," I said, turning on my heel and walking towards the exit of the common room.

"Where are you going?" he said, grabbing my wrist and twisting my body back forcefully.

"Out," I said, glaring up at him. "Give me detention, for all I care."

"No," he said, his nose flaring. "You can't leave the castle. I won't–"

"Why do you care?" I jolted my wrist away from his grasp. "You don't even talk to me anymore–"

He scoffed. "You think I stopped caring about what happens to you?"

"I don't know! I have no idea what's going on in your brain nowadays!"

"Yeah?" He stepped towards me menacingly. "How does that feel? Gotten too used to having me wrapped around your finger, haven't you?"

I staggered back. "You – you can't _possibly_ think that I would–"

He clenched his jaw. "Well, I never really know when it comes to you."

"Do you really think I would do that to you again?" I said, completely affronted.

"Haven't you? Isn't that what you've been doing this entire month? Trying to _read_ me again? Tell me, how's that working out for you?" His smirk was cold as ice, sending shivers down my spine.

I frowned, leaning back. "I haven't–"

"Don't lie," he snapped.

I glared at him. "Well maybe if you hadn't been so baffling then I wouldn't have felt the need to."

He said nothing. Only looked down at the ground beneath us, chest heaving.

I swallowed thickly. "And there was no ulterior motive. All I wanted was to understand–"

His gaze snapped back to me, his face stuck in a sneer. "What can't you understand?"

"How about the fact that you quit Quidditch?"

"I want to focus on my studies," he said, shrugging.

"And being prefect?"

"I just don't want to. It's not as if they're offering incentives. It's basically unpaid child labor."

"Where did you disappear to back in Diagon Alley?"

"I went to Borgin and Burke's to get my Hand of Glory fixed and Mother wouldn't have – _allowed_ me," he said, the last two words seem a pain to utter out loud.

I crossed my arms over my chest, looking down at the ground in thought.

"Have any more?" His words were dripping with malice.

My eyes darted back up to him. "Why did you leave me?" I winced inwardly at how pained I sounded. "Back home. Why did you leave like that?"

"I told you. It was an emergency." He jutted his chin upward, choosing to stare at something behind me rather than make eye-contact.

"That doesn't make any sense. How would you have known there was an emergency? There wasn't any owls or anything–"

"I had a prior commitment I've forgotten and I just remembered."

"But – you looked like you were in pain. You were–"

"I wasn't," he said, laughing as if I were being delusional.

"Yes, you were," I insisted, my voice rising by a fraction. "Something with your chest or – I don't know but you–"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I stared at him, unblinking. My chest tightened with anger.

" _You're_ the one who's lying this time. Not me," I snapped.

He met my gaze, his eyes glinting with stifled fury. "Well, maybe it's what you deserve."

The silence that followed was deafening.

My jaw trembled as I opened and closed my mouth multiple times, trying to find the words to say – trying to figure out what to feel.

_It's what you deserve._

"Alright," I said, defeat clear in the way I spoke.

_It's what I deserve._

A deep breath. A step back. I walked away without looking behind.

♰

On the day of our first Hogsmeade visit for the year came a particularly bad nightmare.

I stood atop a pile of Inferi, an undead army of my own making. One by one, their features turned from a disfigured face plucked from the masses to someone with skin as brown as Aunt Lara. Right next to her was another with the same slanted eyes Eleanor has. Below her were a burnt face bearing eyes that were undeniably Pansy's. One after the other, I was faced with the dead body of everyone I cared about and more. Even people I didn't care about. Granger's mane, Potter's scar, Montague's build.

It was the blonde hair that had me gasping for air when I awoke.

"Are you alright?" Daphne asked me, her brows furrowed and eyes downturned as she paused brushing her hair on the bed beside me. 

I breathed in a ragged breath.

"Yeah – just a nightmare," I said, forcing a chuckle.

Sofia purred, licking on my cheek.

"Are you sure?" Daphne said, frowning.

I plastered on a reassuring smile. "Yes." I laughed. "I'm fine."

"Alright," she said, disbelieving. She continued brushing her hair. "What do you want to do later?"

The dread was still pooling in the base of my stomach, the fear debilitating. All I wanted to do was stay in bed.

"I don't think I'm going today," I said. "I – have to catch up on some homework."

Even as I said it, I knew it was a pathetic lie. I have been doing _nothing_ but schoolwork. Drowning myself in _anything_ I could so as not to feel _everything_ I didn't want to. Obsessively writing essay after essay, reading book after book, running up and down the castle to assist professors in anything they needed. Desperate to tire myself enough to need to pass out by the end of the day, giving myself no time to think _._

Daphne knew this.

For my sake, she acted as if she didn't. She nodded, stood up, wrapped an arm around my shoulders for a few seconds before leaving me to my senses.

Before that day, I didn't know it was possible to do absolutely nothing. Sleep, stare at the ceiling, and then some more sleep. Sofia was somehow more productive than I was. Before I knew it, the sun had set and I laid there wondering how quickly time seemed to move nowadays. September had passed and we were now nearing the middle of October. The cold had gotten colder, the mist had gotten thicker, and–

Millie and Tracey came barreling inside our room.

"Merlin, Ava, you wouldn't believe what just happened," Tracey said, her heels bouncing as she skipped towards me. "Katie Bell was _cursed."_

I sat up abruptly. _"What?"_

She sat on my bed, rapidly nodding. "We heard from Faye who heard from Cho who heard from Padma who heard from Parvati who heard from Leanne who was with Katie when it happened. They said Katie was just walking back to Hogwarts and then suddenly started levitating and screaming. And then there was this necklace and _Potter!_ Potter said–"

"Tracey," Millie said, her eyes wide as she shifted her weight from foot to foot by the end of my bed.

"–that he saw it from Borgin and Burkes and that he suspects it was _Malfoy_ who was behind it."

"What?"I said, frowning. "Just because his father's a Death Eater doesn't mean that he's–"

"But it makes sense because Pansy said that Malfoy said something about a task when we were on the train and–"

"Tracey!" Millie exclaimed.

Tracey's eyes went round. "–and I wasn't... supposed... to tell you... I–"

"Wasn't supposed to tell me what?" I said, gripping her wrist albeit a little too tight than I intended.

She averted her eyes. "We know you and Malfoy have something going on so we thought that–"

Millie kicked her on the shin.

"–and I wasn't supposed to know that either," Tracey said, dropping her head down between her shoulders.

Millie cleared her throat. "We haven't told anyone about you and Malfoy, Ava. I swear. It's just between the three of us."

I forced myself to shake my head in the nicest way possible. "It's fine," I said, taking extra effort to lighten my tone of voice. "But what is it that you couldn't tell me?"

Millie chewed on her bottom lip, looking down at her feet.

I turned to Tracey who was looking at me apprehensively.

"I won't get mad," I said, smiling. "I just want to know."

She sighed. "Well – Pansy said that Malfoy was wanking on about a _task_ from You-Know-Who. And at first, she thought he was just – you know, bragging as he usually does."

I swallowed thickly. "And now she thinks he was telling the truth?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "We haven't talked to her yet – she's still with Blaise – but it would make sense wouldn't it?"

"So," I said, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip. "You think Draco's – a Death Eater?"

She shook her head furiously. "No – I mean, maybe? I don't know. I'm sorry, Ava. I know you and him are–"

"No," I said, a dry chuckle tumbling off my lips as I stared into space. "We – we're not – there's nothing going on with... him and me."

"Oh," she said, frowning. "I thought–," she cleared her throat, "–well, alright."

She stood up, looking around the room awkwardly.

"Uhm – well, we'll go down to – uh – dinner," she said, walking backward.

I forced a small smile, nodding.

When the two girls left the room, I stood up immediately, almost lunging towards Daphne's bedside table where she kept her magazines and books. I scoured her stack clumsily, desperate to get my hands on a copy of the Quibbler featuring Potter's tell-all interview.

Spellbound August 1996  
Witch's Weekly June 1996  
Quidditch Times June 1996  
Spellbound April 1996

And then finally, Quibbler March 1996.

**HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:**   
**THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED**

I hastily skimmed through it.

And when I had found the part I had been looking for, my stomach churned with alarm. Death Eaters were brandished with a mark charmed with Protean. Pointing at the Dark Mark on their arm is their way of summoning the rest of them.

My shoulders slumped in defeat.

The long-sleeved shirt. The Concealment Charm. The "emergency."

He was being summoned. Because he took the mark.

Draco took the mark. He was a Death Eater.

But–

He wouldn't. He was a bully and a git. He was incredibly rude and insensitive and arrogant. He was a lot of things but he was not a murderer. He was not a killer. He couldn't possibly–

_No._

No – no – no.

Draco is not–

He wouldn't.

I knew him. I studied him.

He's not.

No.

I inhaled a shuddering breath, the exhale coming out as a wheeze. With shaking hands, I uncorked a Calming Draught, my vision blurring as the panic crept up my spine. My breaths came in short bursts, the room starting to spin.

Draco. He wasn't–

He can't be. He can't be. He can't be.

♰

It took me a week to plan it.

Conversations to be had and plans to be made just to ensure that my plan was foolproof.

The idea came to me in a girl's bathroom on the second floor as I listened to a dozen or so girls discuss ways on how to get their crush's attention. The day after, I made an order from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Owl Order Service. Two days later, it arrived concealed as perfume. The next day, I talked Pansy into hosting a small party in the Slytherin common room for those not invited to any of the Slug Club dinners. Then I talked Professor Snape into allowing it.

And then there I was, bobbing my head to the music, vials weighing heavy on my pocket. Strobes of neon lights flashed across the room and I did a headcount. Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. Daphne had disappeared somewhere with Justin and Pansy and the rest of the girls were too busy playing host.

No Draco.

Just as expected.

With an untouched cup of Butterbeer in my hand, I slipped past the crowd and up the boy's dormitory.

First, I drank a Draught of Peace as I walked up the stairs. When I had reached the outside of their room, I uncorked the other vial, sipped on it carefully so as not to swallow it, and then I knocked.

I counted the seconds till he opened it.

When he did, he looked at me with confused eyes. He looked like he had just woken up from a nap. His hair was disheveled, his uniform wrinkled all over, the tops of his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck.

Breathing in through my nose, I grabbed his tie and pulled him towards me.

I kissed him.

He stiffened, his lips opening in a faint gasp.

_Forgive me if I'm wrong. Please let me be wrong._

I slipped the potion inside his mouth.

–

**_LISTEN:_ ** _Pray You Catch Me – Beyonce_


	31. Bathtub

**_T/W:_ ** _Blood_ _and gore, toxic behavior_

The Montmorency No. 13. Ingredients: ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, and powdered moonstone. Side-effects include: dilated pupils, a slight blush, and awe-struck eyes. Warning: drinker will experience rising passion and depression if needs are unmet.

"Ava," Draco whispered, cupping my cheek with his right hand. "What are you doing here?" He brushed wisps of my hair back, his eyes scanning my face with pure adoration.

I ignored the all-too-familiar ache in my chest as he looked at me the way I've always wanted him to. Knowing that in a few minutes, it'll all be gone.

"Can we go inside your room?" I asked, my voice taut. I blinked back the pricking behind my eyes.

"Anything you want," he said softly, the hand cupping my cheek falling down the side of my arms and down my wrist where I expected them to stop.

Instead, he held my hand. For the first time. I looked down at it, realizing that I just gave myself another thing to mourn when he wakes up and finds out what I've done to him. Another grave to visit when I remember him – days, weeks, maybe even months from now.

I averted my eyes, biting down on my cheek to keep the tears from spilling over.

He held the door open like a Victorian gentleman – something he would never have done without the influence of magic. His hold on my hand was perfect – not too tight the way he usually gripped my wrist. He was patient as we walked towards his bed, an escort of some sort – the dreamy prince in every girl's fairytale.

He brushed off invisible dust by the edge of his bed, gesturing for me to sit.

He sat next to me, our hands entwined. "Do you need anything? Water? Are you cold? I could give you my jumper–"

"Draco," I said, putting another hand on top of his. "I'm fine, thank you."

He brought the same hand to his lips, fluttering a kiss on my knuckles.

I almost forgot to ignore the lump in my throat.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.

His brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" he asked, panic rising in his tone. "What's making you sad? I'll fix it."

I shook my head. "I'm okay," I said, brushing away the tears threatening to spill with the knuckle of my index finger.

He frowned. He laced his hand on the hair on the back of my head, pulling me closer to him and planting a kiss on my forehead. My lips parted in a silent gasp as he held me in a comforting embrace and whatever stronghold I've built came crashing down. I wrapped my arms around him and started weeping silently against his chest.

_I'm sorry._

"What's wrong, Ava? I'll fix it. I'll do anything for you."

My hand's grip on his crisp, white shirt tightened. I let myself have it. If only for the sake of memory. I breathed in his familiar scent and melted against his warmth. Only for a few seconds, and then I'll pull away.

_I'm sorry._

With my nails digging on the skin of my palm, I drew back.

He wiped away my tears with both thumbs. "Let me fix it, Ava. What is it that you need me to do?" 

I drew in a ragged breath. "I need you to answer me honestly. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded obediently.

"Are you – a Death Eater?" I asked, not bothering to sprinkle sugar on the bitter question.

He leaned back. "No," he said, a scowl forming on his face. He brought his left arm against his chest. "Why would you ask me that? Who told you I was?"

Love doesn't always mean honesty.

Damn the twins for not having Veritaserum.

"No one," I said, forcing the corners of my lips to turn up in a reassuring smile.

My gut twisted when I had decided to demolish whatever was left that kept my morals upright.

"I'm sorry," I said out loud as my fingers moved to unbutton his shirt.

He leaned back further, frowning. "What are you doing?"

A choked sob escaped my lips as I moved to straddle his lap, bringing my lips to his.

I gasped at the ease our lips danced with each other. Like honey and light and everything good in the world had been compressed into the non-existent space between our mouths. He responded as anyone would have under the magic of a love potion. His lips latched on my bottom lip, the tip of his tongue brushing the in-between and I hated the way my body reacted as he pulled me closer to him. I could taste the saltiness of my tears, a grotesque contrast to the warmth between my legs catalyzed by his mouth trailing sloppy kisses on my jaw.

With shaking hands, I struggled to undo the remaining buttons.

Another gasp escaped my lips when I felt him grow hard underneath me, his hips slotted perfectly between my thighs.

_I'm sorry._

I shuddered as he started rolling his hips forward and up, the ache building on the depths of my stomach finally receiving the attention it had craved from the moment I first felt it in this very same room.

I pushed the shirt off his alabaster shoulders.

His lips had found their way to my neck. He groaned as I tried yanking the sleeves off the arms that were wrapped tightly around my body.

"So beautiful," he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending gooseflesh down my spine.

My entire body shook against him, the only thought going through my brain was an apology and a futile wish.

I'm sorry. Please let me be wrong.

When I did manage to get his shirt off, I held my breath as though the action in itself is enough to stop time, to delay the inevitable, to keep him from waking from the stupor that I put him in. I kept my eyes on one of the columns of his four-poster bed, unmoving in fear of what I'm about to see.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, my eyes darted down to his left arm.

His honeyed kisses turned into sin and shadow as serpentine eyes and a skull stared back at me.

I froze, a barrier of glass surrounding my mind as I stared at it. The black lines drawn intricately to create a mark of terror. A symbol of death and destruction. As though the serpent came to life, it struck the glass with colossal force and the barrier cracked.

A wheezing gasp forced its way out of my mouth.

"What's wrong?" he said again, drawing back.

Our eyes met like a collision of celestial bodies that were never meant to meet.

Daughter of acclaimed Auror, son of disgraced Death Eater. Aspiring Auror and bona fide Death Eater.

Oh, the fucking irony of it all.

I ripped myself off of him, wincing as though he were a thorn I had never expected.

With trembling hands, I took the antidote from my pocket.

"Open your mouth," I said, my voice quivering with both fury and fright.

His eyes were glossed over as he tilted his head back, and I grabbed his chin harshly to widen his mouth.

I tipped the vial over his lips, letting the gleaming silver drip down his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, his back falling on the soft mattress of his bed.

I should leave. I should run out of this room. I should be scared.

But whatever fear I was supposed to feel was buried under all the resentment and bitterness boiling within me. I wanted to see his face. I wanted him to look me in the eyes and give me the answers he's denied me all this time.

I stood there, my body shaking as I waited for him to wake up.

"Fucking bitch," was the first thing he said the moment his eyes opened. He sat up abruptly, his teeth bared in a snarl. "You–," he rubbed his hands against his face in frustration. "How _dare_ you?"

"You're a Death Eater," I hissed, my upper lip curling as I pointed an accusing finger at him.

He sliced his arm through the air, his face red. "You said you wouldn't fucking ask questions and instead, you poison me?!"

"You're a Death Eater!"

He scoffed, standing up and stabbing a finger to my face. "Fuck you."

The slap echoed around the room like a cruel aria. My knuckles were raw and his lip split, blood oozing out and dripping down his chin.

I could no longer control the rage that overcame me. I shoved him back.

He grabbed both my wrists with one hand, twisting my body sideways and pushing me until my back hit the wall.

 _"How dare you!"_ I shrieked, needles scratching against the walls of my throat. "You – you're a _murderer._ Katie Bell – how – how could you?!"

I tried yanking my hand away from him, kicking him in the shin, anything and everything just to get away.

"Stop!" he thundered, his voice pained as he kept me pinned against the wall, both his hands holding me back to stop me from writhing underneath him. "You made a _promise–"_

"Any promises I made to you were before I found out you joined a terrorist group trying to kill people like _me_ ," I snarled, glaring at him.

"For fuck's sake! You're not a _mudblood._ How many times do I have to tell you–"

"And if I am?!"

"Shut up!" he growled, slamming his fist on the wall behind me.

"But if I am, you wouldn't mind murdering me too, wouldn't you?"

"Don't you fucking dare question what I–"

I glared up at him. "Is that the task you so _proudly_ told Pansy and the others?" I laughed scornfully. "Kill the mudbloods in this school?"

"You know nothing," he hissed, his teeth bared as he looked down at me.

"But why Katie Bell? She's not Muggleborn. What did she do to you?"

 _"Shut the fuck up."_ His voice was low and murderous.

I jolted my shoulder against him. He pushed down on me with his chest further.

"Or – she was just a casualty, was she? Who did you really intend to kill?"

The muscles of his jaw rolled as he averted his eyes.

"Was it Granger? One of the Creeveys? Justin?"

He said nothing.

"Answer me!"

"You know _nothing!"_

My head lolled forward as sobs wracked my chest.

 _Inconsiderate. Disrespectful. Cruel._ Death Eater. **Killer.**

His hold on me had loosened as I stopped fighting and I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders.

I jolted away, walking backward.

"Ava, look at me," he pleaded, his voice hoarse.

I looked up, my jaw shaking as disbelief and fear and anger and everything in between flooded my being.

He took a step toward me, his hand outstretched like he wanted me to take it. "I'm _still_ me."

I took three steps back, shaking my head wildly. "Don't touch me."

I stumbled out of his room, running down the stairs, the bass of the music syncing with the thud of my heart. I pushed past jumping and dancing figures, their shapes a blur of rainbow colors. I tripped and pushed my way up the stairs and inside our empty room, the music and cheers from below muffled by the walls. I staggered towards the bathroom, ignoring Sofia's purrs as she curled her body over my feet.

Blood filled my taste buds as I chewed on the inside of my mouth, sobbing as my trembling hands cast a spell on the bathtub. Before it was halfway full, I sank inside, fully clothed, desperate to wash away the filth on my skin from where he had touched me.

I rubbed on my skin until it was raw and red and bleeding, weeping as the cold in my chest became unbearable. I wrapped my arms around my knees, watching the water turn pink with blood.

I was wrong. Death wasn't lying in wait outside the wards of Hogwarts. Death was here. Death had kissed me. Death brushed his fingers on my bare shoulders and my spine and my collarbones. Death had held me in his arms like Hades held Persephone.

Death came into my childhood home, held me with the arms bearing the mark that brought terror to the Wizarding world. He held Eleanor's hands as he danced with her, knowing that her husband spent his entire life fighting people like him. He _kissed_ me and _touched_ me with the knowledge that I've _devoted_ my years in this school to become someone who worked to put someone like him behind bars.

All the horror stories Aster had told me came crashing back into memory. All the times he had burst into homes a little bit too late. Witches and wizards lying on the ground lifeless, the air smelling like rotting bodies. Sometimes, the Killing Curse was far too kind for them. One time, he found a woman hanging from their ceiling with only her head attached to the rope, parts of her body strewn all over the floor. Another time, he said he found an infant with his throat slit, its blanket dripping with blood. He said that wasn't even the worst. With tears in his eyes, he recounted the heartbreak he felt finding them _alive._ Alive but not really living. Cursed and tortured until nothing was left on the inside.

And now, Draco was one of them.

Draco had harmed someone with the intent to _kill._

The water rippled around me and I realized I was shaking.

 _Aster._ He would want me to tell someone. Tell Dumbledore before Draco hurt somebody else. And if I don't and he gets caught and his memories get searched and the Ministry finds out I knew, all my hope of ever becoming an Auror would go down the drain.

I need to inform the Ministry.

I need to tell someone.

I need to–

I gripped the edge of the tub tightly, gasping for breath when I realized that I _couldn't._

Because even when faced with the cold, hard facts, a stupid part of me still held on to the Draco I knew. The Draco that held his mother in his arms as she wept. The Draco who sacrificed Slytherin's chance to win the House cup just to hurt someone who's hurt me. The Draco who – even after everything – I knew would never do anything to cause me harm.

I grasped at my chest, doubling over in pain at the thought that Aster would hate me if I didn't. Draco would hate me if I did. The only two men who have ever felt like home – and I had to choose.

I had to choose and I couldn't.

And I hated myself for it.

♰

It was hours past midnight and I sat on one of the sofas in the common room, downing the leftover Firewhiskey from last night's party. With an empty stomach, the alcohol took its toll a lot quicker and a lot stronger than I anticipated.

A merperson swam by, staring at me through the window. Then they bared their teeth aggressively, the way they usually did just to elicit some sort of reaction as a sick, morbid joke. When they found that I was too tired and too empty to even pretend shock, they rolled their eyes and swam away. Fishes swam past as I brought the bottle back to my lips, raising it high and shaking it to make sure I consumed every remnant of the liquid.

The cold draft of the room made me shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself, resting my head on the armrest as I watched the early phases of sunlight underwater. Minute by minute, what was then pitch black turned into a beautiful shade of turquoise. I stayed still until I could finally make out the shape of a fish swimming a couple of meters away from the window, and streaks of light pierced through the water.

A shadow obstructed my vision.

The shadow wrapped his arm around my waist, the other under my knees. It lifted me up from the sofa and my head fell on his chest.

I looked up, and the shadow bore pained eyes and a split lip.

"I hurt you," I said weakly, bringing my hands to his face. My finger brushed around the outline of his lips, a pang spreading across my chest at the sight. "Forgive me."

He said nothing as he opened the door to the boy's dormitory, and nothing more as he carried me up the stairs.

I curled my fist on the collar of his jumper, desperately trying to get his attention.

"I'm sorry," I said, warm tears spilling down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Draco."

" _You're_ sorry?" he asked, his chest vibrating against my ear as a cold laughter tumbled off his lips.

He muttered an unfamiliar spell and I heard the click of a lock opening. I turned my head to look at the room, expecting five poster beds with the rest of our friends still sleeping. Instead, I was met with stacks of books haphazardly strewn on a desk, a sofa covered with white fabric, mismatched chairs, and a mattress on the floor.

He laid me down on the sofa. Before he could step away, I grabbed his hand tightly.

"Don't leave," I whispered, my eyelids heavy.

"I won't."

"I'm sorry," I said again, fighting against the fatigue.

"Stop apologizing," I heard him say.

"I hurt you," I said, my voice quivering. "I'm sorry."

"You have to do a lot worse to me to ever receive the right to apologize."

My eyes closed, sleep stealing away my consciousness.

"I don't want to choose you," I heard my voice whisper.

Silence. The floorboards creaked.

"Then don't."

I sighed. "I'm trying not to."

♰

When I awoke, a hammering headache greeted me good morning. Every nerve ending on my body was on fire and it felt as though I've strained every single muscle group there is. My throat was dry, my face still splotchy with tears and I knew my eyes were swollen even without the help of a mirror.

I shifted and saw his eyes on me, and all I wanted was to hide under a blanket I didn't have. He sat on a chair in the farthest corner of the room, a book in his hand.

My mouth opened multiple times, struggling to find the words to say.

"You don't have to say anything," he said, his voice clipped.

I swallowed thickly.

"Where are we?" I croaked, my voice straining.

"An extra room. Snape let me use it this year. For my–," he paused, letting the rest of his words fade away.

I nodded, my head drooping down with the remainder of my fatigue.

My eyes darted up. "Don't tell me Professor Snape's also–"

He pursed his lips, sighing.

An inappropriate laugh tumbled past my lips. Maybe they _were_ right. Maybe everyone sorted into Slytherin _was_ destined for evil. Maybe I was too and I just didn't know it yet.

"You think it's funny?" he said, his voice positively dripping with malice. "Having you here's already costing me an arm and a leg and you _laugh_?"

I sat up, wincing as I did so. "Forgive me if my presence is _that_ much of a burden for you."

I tried to stand but my legs were jelly and the room was spinning and my stomach grumbled with nausea and–

He was in front of me in an instant. "Just – lay down. Leave when you're ready," he said, refusing to make eye contact.

Bile rose up my throat and I knew that if I didn't listen, I would have vomited all over both of us.

I let him help me back down.

I breathed in, closing my eyes but the back of my lids were tainted with all the ugly and all the pain, and with every memory flashing before my eyes, the hammering on my head and on my chest tore down the last remnants of my stronghold.

"Tell me you didn't want it," I said, my voice cracking as the lump in my throat returned with full force. When I opened my eyes, he's moved his chair and was sitting right next to me, his elbows resting on his legs. He was gazing at me, his eyes still the same shade of grey that I adored. His hair was undone, the fronts of it falling on his forehead.

He paused, pursing his lips in hesitation.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted it or not. When the Dark Lord tells you to take his mark–," he inhaled a sharp breath, "–well, let's just say it's considered incredibly impolite to say no." His lips twitched into a wry smile.

I stared at him, blinking slowly.

He didn't want it. He was forced. He didn't mean to hurt Katie Bell. He wouldn't do that on purpose. He was just a tool the Dark Lord used. He didn't have a choice.

"You're making excuses for me," he said quietly.

My eyes fell, my body slumping.

We stayed silent for a while, even as I felt his gaze searing into my skin. I tugged on a loose thread on my jumper, watching as it unraveled the other stitches, creating a gaping tear.

"You love me."

I stilled.

My first instinct was to deny it. To let my shock operate my body and answer with false confusion. Instead, I took a deep breath. I let my gaze stray to watch the flicker of sunlight on the wooden floors. To count the books stacked on the desk. To let the sound of the water lapping against the window muffle both of our heavy breathing.

"You shouldn't," he spoke again after minutes of quiet.

I stared at him. Studied him. Tried to, at least. I zoomed in on the micro-movements of his face, tried assessing the way he breathed, searched for twitches on his hands, shoulders, and knees.

Again, _nothing._

"Why not?" I asked simply. Vague enough to neither confirm nor deny.

He was looking at the floor between his feet. He huffed into a wan smile. "You know why."

I did. Better than I'd let myself admit.

"You saw my mother," he said. "You saw how difficult it is for her. It's too late for her now. It isn't for you."

I chewed on the parts of my bottom lip that weren't already raw and beaten, trying to let his words sink in. Trying to force myself to believe it.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he said. "In Diagon Alley. In Cornwall. I should have never come to you. You've given me more than anyone's ever–," he paused, shutting his eyes as he breathed in. "I can't take anything more from you."

"Do _you_ regret it?" I asked.

I saw his Adam's apple bob against his neck.

He said nothing.

I sat up slowly, my legs falling between his knees. He leaned back, surprise flashing across his face for a second.

I cupped his cheek with my hand.

"I don't," I said, the fierceness in my voice surprising even me. I stroked his cheekbone with my thumb, mustering all the gentleness I had within me to give him. Something I knew was unfamiliar to him. Something I knew no one ever showed him. "You are not your father, Draco. I know it."

I leaned in close, letting our noses brush against each other. I felt his hand slip behind my hair and hold the nape of my neck.

"Stop," he whispered, our lips hovering over each other.

Hurt spread from my gut. I drew back an inch, his eyes boring into mine. "Why?"

I felt him bunch up my hair on the back of my head. I imagined that his nails were digging into the skin of his palm. He breathed in, closing his eyes as if to stifle whatever chaos was brewing inside of him. "If you come any closer, I wouldn't be able to control myself."

My heart was pounding. My brain was in disarray – a library of all the shouldn't and couldn't, completely obliterated by all that _want._ Him. I wanted him no matter how wrong.

I leaned in.

His eyelids fluttered open, and under them, he hid pupils so black, I could hardly see the grey.

His hand was shaking as he trailed his finger from my jaw to my chin, lifting it up before planting a cold kiss on my forehead. "Make me stop," he whispered.

I said nothing.

A warm gust of air ghosted on my face as he drew a shuddering breath before brushing his mouth on the tip of my nose. "Make me stop," he whispered again.

Grey eyes stared back at me, a dreamlike intensity in them as his lips grazed mine – already there but not _quite._ "Make me–"

I reached for the back of his head and pulled him in.

–

 **_LISTEN:_ ** _War Of Hearts – Ruelle_


End file.
